White Satin and Teen Spirit
by genevevewrites
Summary: Modern day Gone with the Wind. Not suggested for children under the age of fourteen.
1. You're So Vain

_Disclaimer: If I owned anything that had to do with this story, I wouldn't be writing this._

_Yes, it's true, Do I Have Your Heart? has been deleted, but I am replacing that drab story with a new one. It is still modern day, and hopefully a whole lot better. This chapter is short, but they will become longer as time goes on. Please, please, enjoy and REVIEW!_

As she stared down at her reflection in a bowl of warm water, Scarlett O'Hara wondered what the hell she was going to do with her life. Her slitted eyes blankly gazed back up at her, offering no mediation to the problem.

"Lady, left han'!" The Vietnamese women repeated, impatiently holding her nail file ready. It was the second time she had to repeat herself to this girl.

"What? Oh, sure," Scarlett splashed her hand down into the water, watching her pale facial features dissolve into a murky haze. An ugly and pruned hand took hers, scrubbing it to an unnatural red.

"Ouch!" She exclaimed, jerking her hand from the bowl. Droplets of scalding water splashed over the opened nail polish and onto the floor, leaving a trail of wet splotches on the tile.

"Lady! Be ceerful!" Her botched English was hardly lower than a shriek.

"Stop trying to rub my hands off, than!" Scarlett frowned, and watched as the small women bent over with a towel, desperately pushing it back and forth to soak up the water.

"Scarlett, is everything okay?" Melanie questioned quietly, sedately sitting at her own station with her fingers draped into a bowl equal to Scarlett's.

"Yes," Came the answer through gritted teeth. Nothing was going as it was supposed to! This 'accident' only proved it. Sitting at a Nail Salon with Melanie Hamilton was not everybody's idea of fun, especially to Scarlett. The worst part, was that the man she was utterly, and hopelessly in love with had asked her do it. At the exact moment that Ashley had uttered the words: _Could you show Melanie around Atlanta for me, Scarlett? It would mean so much, since she will be moving up here in October and everything. _Her heart had ceased its beating. The entire world came crumbling in on her, sucking the air from her lungs. Of course Ashley had not seen her face. They had been speaking over the phone, but if only he could know! At first only sorrow and misunderstanding had vibrated her, but with a day to absorb the storm, anger followed. Not just normal chick anger, pissed-the-hell off anger. Ashley had kissed her-KISSED her! And it had been the most devastatingly wonderful moment in all of Scarlett's life. It did not matter that he had already drunken two beers, or that it was at one thirty in the morning. None of that mattered. He had taken her in his arms, pressed his lips against hers, and kissed her. Now, how in all of the world was she sitting in Atlanta, Georgia, opposite Melanie Hamilton?

"I think I'm going to get white," Melanie said, acting as if she had put some major thought in that scholarly decision.

"Shocking," Scarlett replied sarcastically, turning back to her own color choices. The Vietnamese women had reassembled everything carefully, eying Scarlett warily. "Hot pink," She demanded, dangling the bottle of paint in front of her beady eyes.

"I sees it," The women yanked the bottle from Scarlett and mumbled something to herself in a homeland language. Scarlett nodded and pressed all ten fingers flat, thinking of what to do with her new, homely pal. She wondered what Ashley's interest in her was anyway. It wasn't as if the bitch was special. Her lashes were too short and soft, face ghastly white without a touch of make-up, and hair laying in dark clumps at her shoulders. Even her body was disgusting. Melanie had to be a size zero in everything. Legs, hips, chest, waist, not a curve to look at! No beauty to her! Scarlett was proud of her curvaceous legs and hips, pouting red mouth, and developed breasts. Men don't want a stick, and she knew that. Ashley, you don't want to be fucking a twig do you? She asked herself. A form of irony butted in, as her new cell phone bussed loudly in her pocket.

"You ruin your nails," The women warned, clicking her tongue.

"Thanks for the concern," Quickly the phone was pulled from the cave of her pocket, a tube of red lip gloss and piece of pink bubble gum emerging along with it. Just as she had been warned, globs of bright pink smeared over her brand new jeans. Scarlett rolled her eyes as the women smiled triumphantly, knowing she could buy a new pair anytime she wanted.

_How's it going?_ The message was from Ashley. She stared at the purple screen for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She was still furious with him.

_I'll give her back to you as soon as this is over. _She typed, snapping the wireless closed and setting it aside. The sound cracked like a whip against the soft humming of nail filing. The other women receiving their manicures turned to stare. Another letter from Ashley made her cell dance and jitter across the metal table loudly, but Scarlett could ignore him.

"Was that Brent?" Melanie asked sweetly, wondering what was vexing Scarlett. She had not bothered to hide it from her impressionable face.

"Mhm," She no longer had the energy to feign kindness. This girl was intolerable. The rest of the appointment went in total silence between the two of them. Scarlett was plotting. The next time she saw Ashley, she had to find out what his intentions with Melanie were. Maybe she could be like Sherlock Holmes-if only Sherlock Holmes wore mini skirts and hot pink nail polish...

Walking from the Salon, Scarlett impatiently blew onto her nails, annoyed that the paint wasn't sealing over quite yet. Melanie who was taking along behind her was babbling on about something unimportant, and Scarlett only made polite responses when it was necessary. Their footsteps sounded so different on the cement. Scarlett's was an obnoxious clomping of heel hitting cement, Melanie's sneakers squishing in a puddle. At her car, she paused to look at the mousy girl who was about to step inside of it. Her perfect silver convertible, about to be invaded by a mouse. How lovely.

An hour later, the pair was driving down the road at Scarlett's favorite speed-illegal. Melanie was clutching her seatbelt so tightly her knuckles were turning white. She tried to make conversation.

"This car is really nice,"

"Yep, good ole' Dad bought it for me last fall," Scarlett clicked on her turning signal and veered to the left onto a country road. Her fingers absently were roaming on the dashboard but in their explorations found a stick of bright blue bubble gum. Scarlett pushed it in between her teeth.

"I've never met your parents,"

"Yep," God, she was annoying. It was quite obvious they had never met, and never would be meeting one another. Melanie wised up and settled into politely looking out the window, laying both hands now in her lap. Scarlett listened to her jaw sticking and separating with the gum, and decided to turn on the radio to ease the sound.

_Womanizer, you're a womanizer baby... _Click.

_Don't stop, believing! Hold on to that feeling... _Click.

_You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you! Don't you, don't you? _The radio stayed on this channel. The singing voice was throaty and wailed into the silence of the car. It seemed very out of proportion. Scarlett could ignore this, all of this. Normally some form of manners might have stepped in front of her wall of anger, but not when love was a component. Melanie was competition for Ashley. All of the polite teachings her mother had preached and preached were out the door. Cutting into the music was the sound of Melanie's modest cellphone, ringing quietly. Her eyes skimmed over the screen.

"Scarlett, we're supposed to meet Ashley at _Sherman's _Bar and Saloon. Do you know where that is?" Scarlett smiled genuinely and turned to look at Melanie. _Sherman's_ was her favorite spot in all of Georgia. It's too bad Ashley would be mercilessly questioned in there.

_AN: Hehe, I added on a bit and changed some words. I was yelled at for swearing too much._


	2. Shut up, Ashley

**Author's Note**: Here we go again with the entire review thing. So far, my story has had 204 visitors, and TWO reviews. It's discouraging to see so many people who have read my story and didn't bother to send me any feedback. Please, take the time to send me a review at the end of this chapter. The button is right at the bottom.

Inside of the bar the lights were beyond dim. A blanket of cigarette smoke weaved in and out of each corner, casting the black atmosphere with a haze. This was the type of environment that Scarlett thrived in. Unfortunately, it was the contrary for Melanie. Her lungs were starved for air and began to wheeze and spit, making a ghastly noise. Scarlett turned to glare at her. As much as it would please her to see the girl choke and writhe, she was responsible for her.

"Are you all right?" She questioned, annoyed. A few pink and yellow lights flicked on, illuminating the dance floor. It was nearly calling Scarlett's name.

"Yes, go ahead, I'm her-" Her voice was cut short by more throat constriction and heaving coughs. Scarlett nodded softly and told her to go get some water. As soon as the pale silhouette was out of sight, Scarlett began to hunt for Ashley. Every tall, blond man made her heart begin to stutter and skip, but when he turned around it was often a stranger who did not resemble Ashley in the least. Again and again she would think a tall frame was her knight, but it never failed to be another. Her spirits were beginning to dip as fifteen minutes rolled by, until the most beautiful voice in the world called her name.

"Scarlett! Get over here!" Ashley Wilkes called, only slightly drunk. Scarlett jumped and turned to see him near a table with a few men who were self-consciously sipping at their alcohol. Her face split into a wide grin. Scarlett pushed through the bodies in her way, running to Ashley, her high-heels slapping against the ground. Even her raven hair fell from the tidy pony tail it was twisted into.

"Ashley!" She called when she arrived at his table, his strong arms wrapping about her waist in a brief hug. It was too short an embrace for Scarlett's liking. All of her anger could be lost when she looked at the face she had melted into so easily in past years. Twenty was a young age, but the two had known each other since infancy. Her eyes darted down to his table, noticing a tall glass of bright green liquid. He had ordered her very favorite beverage-an apple martini. "Why didn't you order me one?" She pushed his arm playfully, and reached down to claim the glass. Her lips took down the alcohol like a professional, green droplets slipping into her lip gloss. A dark figure seated at Ashley's table chuckled softly, taking a large swig of his own beverage. From her position it looked like a combination of whiskey and vodka. Scarlett could not see the man who was laughing in her presence, he was too hidden by a combination of smoke and shadows. But she could see the two black eyes that bore into hers. They drifted down and devoured her body with the same intensity of a careless, but hungry lion. It was rather annoying, and it made Scarlett conscious of her body. It was intended for Ashley and no one else. Through the years, she had run endless miles of meandering roads, done an entire list of curl-ups, all with Ashley in mind. Not with this stranger. Quickly, she pulled the rest of her drink down and gazed up at Ashley. He was perfect in every way. His lazy gray eyes, bronzed skin and breathtaking smile. Even his mystifying words and books and the like were beautiful. Whatever he took an interest in, oddly interested Scarlett. She believed it was fate.

"You are so pretty," He drunkenly slurred, guzzling down another shot of whatever he was drinking. The guys around him laughed and tipped their glasses down as well, mumbling agreement. Scarlett giggled demurely, turning her head away.

"You shouldn't lie like that," She continued to giggle, as the effects of alcohol began to mix within her bloodstream.

"I swear to God it's true. You're so cute," He laughed at his own words, not realizing how unpoetical they sounded. With the last bit of his speech, he pinched Scarlett's cheek. Very slowly he was crossing the lines into inebriation. Scarlett loved Ashley when he was drunk, though she had only seen him in this state three or four times. Instead of becoming a drunken buffoon like other men, he was complimenting, and always touching her. It was great.

"You're not so bad," She shrugged, still grinning. They could say whatever they wanted, and neither would remember in the morning.

"Not so bad? Now you're the one lying," He thought that one was a gem, and began to rumble with laughter again. More laughter came from the figure behind in the table, succeeding with the scraping of a moving chair.

"Did you bring me down here just to tease me?" Her eyes were soft and glittering under the wavering lights.

"Oh shit, that's right! Are you still holding my girlfriend hostage, or can I reclaim her?" His eyes went out over the crowd, trying to single out the small girl. What he could not hear was the air catching against Scarlett's throat.

So it was true! He was dating that sniveling little urchin. All the blood rushed from Scarlett's body, and she was beginning to sober up very quickly. Her stomach clenched into a dangerous fist, shortening the air coming into her lungs. Ashley had no idea how high she had hopes for a possible relationship between them. The only times he had shown her intimacy was in a drunken state but when sobered, he was nothing more than a friendly counterpart in the workforce. When taking the job of his secretary, she had hoped for some blooming office passion. No, only distant relations. Still, why had he lead her on so? She had driven herself crazy over him, only to be crushed down like a soda can. Damn, how could she have been so stupid? Scarlett dragged her eyes back up to Ashley, unable to come to terms with the fact he belonged to another girl. Did he really belong to Melanie? Maybe—maybe if she could just speak with him, Ashley would understand and realize she loved him. That was the answer! Ashley didn't know she loved him! Surely he could not be with Melanie with that sort of information on his mind.

Quickly, Scarlett took Ashley by the arm, yanking him after her like a puppy. They needed to talk, and somewhere private. The first place that came to mind was a private booth, but all of them were occupied with kissing couples. Next was a corner, but all of them were crammed with dancers. The only really quiet place left was a restroom. Gross, but it would have to do. Naturally, Scarlett charged into the women's room first, only to find it was pact with women, all reapplying mascara and gossiping about which guys they had flirted with that evening. Scarlett quickly retreated from that scene. There was no way she could speak over the squealing blond bimbo's. Oh God, there was only one haven left. The men's room. A sudden realization of this hit Scarlett, and she sucked in her breath, squaring both shoulders. The door was pushed open, and to her surprise, all of it was empty. Not a soul stood at a urinal or splashed their face with water. All clear. Scarlett nearly jumped with joy. Ashley brought her buzz down and roughly grabbed her arms, searching both of her eyes.

"What's all this about?" He questioned, unhappy at being tugged away from a waiting drink. Scarlett opened her mouth to speak, but floundered for words. There was so much to say! A thousand incoherent thoughts raced through her mind, but she could not catch one of them to shape into words. It didn't help she would have to declare her love to this man in a bar bathroom-particularly a men's room.

"Ashley, there's something I have to tell you, something you should have known a long time ago." Her eyes looked up to his as the pressure against her arms lessened. Ashley looked stunned and drowsy.

"What is it? A secret?" His spine sank back against a wall. Scarlett noticed how much more intoxicated he looked under bright lights... and how much more miserable.

"No. Ashley, stop laughing! Oh, you bastard, shut up! I-I love you!" Instead of feeling frightened or upset, her mind raced with pleasure. This was so easy! She should have told him this years ago. If only Ashley would wipe that sickened look off his face...

"No, Scarlett," He replied, sounding as exhausted as if he had just sprinted for forty miles. Scarlett stared into he paled face, searching for a clue, any clue as to why he was acting like this. He loved her! Couldn't he admit it?

"Yes, Ashley! I love you more than anything-"

"Scarlett, I said stop it!" He cried out, though it wasn't with violence. A lump buried in his throat was swallowed down. Scarlett felt the blow as if it was a slap in the face. He wasn't making any sense at all. She didn't want to believe a word he was saying.

"What are you talking about? I thought you loved me, I thought you always have!" Scarlett was nearing desperation. Her hands sought his, holding his large fingers tightly. Their warmth was keeping her alive as the tears were springing against her eyes.

"I'm going to marry Melanie." He stated it like a fact, like the date was already set in stone. Her eyes widened in shock, hands releasing him. Marriage? At age twenty-five? To _Melanie_? The very name sent Scarlett on a horse galloping about with rage. Melanie! The girl with zero curves, zero personality, zero appeal. The one girl in the world who Scarlett did not find as competition, stealing her love away? It was too much. Melanie had eyes like dead leaves under water, while Scarlett's were shimmering green leaves at the bottom of a pool. How could he be choosing_ her_?

"You're joking! Aren't you?" The look on his face did not give her an answer. Scarlett plucked at his sleeve, swallowing roughly. "Don't you love me?" The words were hardly a whisper. For a moment Ashley looked down at her with a sort of pity, than understanding. His eyes changed from burning warmth, to the slow freezing of ice.

"I love Melanie," Scarlett could contain it no longer. The tears came flooding from her eyes in stinging torrents. Oh God, oh God, her mind repeated. She felt as if she was going to vomit all over the restroom tiles, or on Ashley. The tears were a mixture of despair, humiliation, and fury. Per usual, the rage dominated everything else. Violent blood was always lurking beneath her tongue.

"Why didn't you tell me? What were all the kisses for than, hm?" Questions generated in her mind and poured from her mouth like waterfalls.

"Scarlett, be fair. I was drunk and it was only at a few parties-"

"What was I to you, a silly little whore?" Her breath was coming in indignant gasps, chest heaving back and forth.

"No! You're so beautiful and strong, something I could never be."

"You're always talking like this! Talk, talk, talk about fine things...but when it comes down to it you're a bastard! You led me on-you made me believe you loved me!" Scarlett's face was as red as her name, flaring along with her temper. Everything she felt was coming out, and she wasn't bothering to hold her voice below a scream.

"I never did any of that!" He was past pale now. More like a sheet in color. Ashley had never been talked to this way.

"Just get out! I hate you, just get the hell out of here!" Like a whip, here hand crashed against his cheek. Ashley did not flinch, only closed his eyes for a brief moment. When they opened, all of the ice build-up was gone.

"Scarlett, I'm sorry." He murmured without passion. Without looking back, he left the restroom with tremors shooting down his spine. Scarlett felt every burning emotion that had occupied her body only a moment before drain through her eyes. Tears were sprinkling down her cheeks like a rain storm. She gasped and choked for air as the tears cut her lungs from their supply. She reeled back against a sink, leaning on the marble counter at the side. Scarlett pulled her eyes to the mirror and swatted at her wet cheeks, her eyes red and swollen. She quickly began to touch up at her smeared make-up before another man came into the restroom.

"You'll be fine," She whispered to herself, pinching at her cheeks to add some color. As she brushed a lock of black hair behind her ear and prepared to leave, a loud creaking sound filled the silent air. A stall door was opened. Scarlett instantly froze and stared back into the mirror, watching as her reflection was joined by another.

Review_ button, don't forget. Chapter three is already complete, tell me if you would like it posted._


	3. Let Go

**Authors Note**: The reviews have been great, thank you for them all. Here we go, chapter three.

A pair of familiar dark eyes stared into her own. They were incredibly amused and the red lips below them were twisted into a smile. A perfect smile, at that. Scarlett nearly fell over and died. Her face blanched, losing the pretty color it had previously held. Despite her raging anger, she was humiliated. This man had heard everything and he was laughing at her!

"Oh my God," She breathed, unable to say anything else. Nothing intelligent was going to be concocted now. Both hands clutched the marble counter top, nearly breaking the precious pieces off in chunks. Everything seemed to spin at an out of control pace, her body thumping with helpless anger. The man said nothing, only deepened his grin. His two black eyes raked in her body without bothering to conceal it. So it was him, the man at Ashley's table who had stared at her before! "You!" She spat, erecting her back.

"Me?" He asked in pretend frustration, laughter surfacing on his voice.

"You! You were staring at me before!" Scarlett felt like a detective. She drank in his features eagerly. His face was unforgettable. It was like none she had ever seen. Dark, swarthy, rugged, handsome, with a smile as white as cotton. His body-God, what a body. Slender in the way a person was in shape, but heavily pact with muscles. There was nothing gentle in his aura, in fact, his entire body was too muscular for gentility.

"Was I?" He began to laugh in a bass voice when her face turned to deep red. Scarlett did not like coy men. They were infuriating.

"Dick." She stated, collecting herself to leave.

"I wouldn't be calling me names, after what I've just heard," Scarlett was poised to leave, but nearly dropped her glittering purse to stare. Damn, he had heard everything, she had nearly forgotten about it. Not only that, but he was holding it against her.

"You wouldn't."

"I would," His eyebrow raised in a challenge.

"Where you raised in a shed? You can't hold things over a girl like that," Scarlett was astounded. No man could call out a girl like this! A girl, maybe, but no men. He chuckled softly and leaned against the wall casually.

"You're more monster than girl," Scarlett glared at him sharply. She most certainly was not a monster. Monsters were green and dilapidated.

"That's not true,"

"But it is. You line men up and tear them down. Ashley Wilkes is the only one lucky enough to capture your feelings," Sarcasm dripped from his every tone. She ignored every absurd word he spoke. This man was absolutely vile.

"Are you always so self-assured, or is it just when you're a rude bastard?" She crossed both arms and stared him directly in the eyes. This jerk was not going to intimidate her. Nor was his laughter and smiles, or the sexy way he carried himself--sexy? No, no, no...maybe-maybe a little bit sexy?

"Are you always so self-absorbed, or is it only when you're panting after men?" Scarlett's face melted from smug satisfaction to irritation. Another thing she hated about coy men. They had comebacks.

"Why am I even talking to you? You're a rude, egotistical-" She tore her purse from its resting place at the counter, leaving her sentence incomplete. Scarlett wanted to get the hell out of the men's bathroom with this inconceivable man.

"Would you prefer me to be soft, like Ashley?" He smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing. Scarlett quit rifling through the innards of her bag, her eyes turned to slits.

"You don't even know him! Ashley is twice the man you will ever be, _sir_," She was prepared to pounce and rip his swarthy face open. He had no room to talk of Ashley.

"Let me stop you. I know Ashley Wilkes very well Scarlett- or would you prefer Ms. O'Hara?" He knew a bit of information the girl did not. Her eyes snapped to attention.

"How do you know my name?"

"I own ' publishing company, along with a string of others. It just happens to be a coincidence I would run into his ever so faithful secretary." Scarlett gasped. This was the man she was working for? This was Rhett Butler? He was the richest man in Atlanta, and never shied away from showing it. His parties were the most extravagant, cars of the newest line, homes large mansions along a beach shore, even his racehorses were the sleekest thoroughbreds to touch a track! They never failed to win a race. Rhett leaned forward slightly. "So it seems you should keep the comments to yourself."

Scarlett reeled away from him, slamming her spine against a cool wall. Her pride was surfacing dangerously close to its peak. He couldn't tell her what to say, nobody could! She didn't need his damned job or damned respect.

"Bite me," She growled, walking forward to the door. Her breaking point was reached and it was taking all of her strength to reel things in. However, her escape was blocked. His tall frame was now against the door, a sardonic grin on his red lips.

"You're giving me permission?" Scarlett's face twisted into displeasure, as she shoved against his arm. To her surprise, Rhett moved out of her way, his laughter trailing behind her even after the door swung closed.

In all honesty, she felt like running, sprinting away from the place. Where the dim lights had been the perfect invitation for dark activity ten moments earlier, they were now creating ugly shadows. Scarlett walked directly to the bar and seated herself on a red stool. She couldn't physically run, but mentally she could. As soon as the bartender rolled around, she ordered a shot of dry Grey Goose. One shot turned into two, two turned into three and so on, until her grand total was six shots. Her mind was tipping along with the room and she didn't care. Ashley and Melanie had most likely left the bar together and not bothered to tell Scarlett. They could go off and make out together all they wanted, and she would not care. She vowed to herself not to care. Let those two squares be together, she told herself, downing her final shot. _I don't need him, I don't need anybody. _Scarlett laughed aloud at this, causing a few critical gazes to be tossed in her direction. Her head drunkenly fell against the bar. Not need anyone? Of course she did. She needed a man who was charming and kind, handsome and loyal, with more money than she could ever spend. Her black hair billowed around her cheek bones, lessening the pain of the hard surface against her bare skin. Even drunk, Scarlett's thoughts were a tangled chain.

Her job was jeopardized by that Rhett Butler. He could tell anybody he wanted of what she had confessed to Ashley, and ruin her social standing. She just couldn't tell with him. Though her anger had been doused by the alcohol, but she still regretted not cussing him out. That was what he deserved, the bastard. With a muffled sigh, she told herself to think about him tomorrow at work.

She and Ashley were going to be together forever. Scarlett tried to remember when she first began to love him. Maybe in Junior High when he was the quarterback of the football team, or Junior year in high school when they tried to run away together, but returned home at nightfall. Who knows?

"Who cares." She mumbled dully, lifting her weary head. Ashley was nothing more than a dream to her now. He was going to marry Melanie, and she had to let go. It was hard, but it must be done. Clinging on to his drowsy memory was a simple waste of time.

_Thank you for all of the reviews!_


	4. Hurt

_Twisty and turn chapter._

Hangovers were hell. Scarlett was painfully finding this out as she stepped under the hot blast of her shower. Every sound was an agony. Small dings sounded like atomic bombs in her ears. Even her eyes were foggy. Maybe it was because she had cried nearly all night. Cried for more reasons than she knew. Humiliation, despair, forgiveness, self-hate, anger, love, all of them wrapped up in one huge, confusing ball. Her head hung against the cream colored shower wall, allowing the streams of water to wash away all of the make-up residue and guilt clinging to her body. As the liquid gurgled down the drain, Scarlett let out a shuttering sigh. Everyone had noticed her condition. Both roommates, Cathy and Emily, had grilled her about Ashley and thrown her back into a rage of tears. They then hasty made some pastries and wine, troubled at what had possibly made Scarlett upset.

The remainder of the night was spent wallowing in panda paws ice cream, ripped tissues, popcorn, and sappy movies. Scarlett yearned to be held by someone, anyone. She itched to lay her head down in her mother's lap, or have a pair of strong arms encase her small body and promise everything would be all right.

Unfortunately, her Mother was far away and such a man did not exist.

Though the night had been dim for Scarlett, the day held a promise, a light, that had been shined upon her through a telephone conversation. And with none other, than Ashley Wilkes. At first she had let the wireless ring and ring until it became a monotonous noise. When it was becoming unbearble, Scarlett had thrown the phone at Emily's face, telling her to keep it hostage.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" Emily asked, as a Side Kick fell into her lap on top of her magazine.

"Keep it away from me,"

"It keeps ringing, Scarlett. Just answer the effing phone." Emily was always making these catchy little remarks.

"No!"

"Scarlett...it's Ashley! Take it!" The phone was chucked at her head, and unfortunately Emily had excellent aim. It was difficult to resist the vibrating, silver device, and the urge to hear his voice overcame her after about the fourth ring.

"Hello?" She asked, plucking an apple from its dish and hurling it at Emily's head as revenge.

"Scarlett! How are you?" Ugh, small talk.

"Fine." Keep it cold, but civil, she reminded herself.

"Are you upset?" He asked reproachfully, honestly frightened of Scarlett's tempers.

"What do you think?" Scarlett petulantly sank down into a chair, crossing both legs. Her free hand worked her hair into a sloppy bun. She knew that if it remained at her shoulders, it would be torn from her head.

"Scarlett, you know I didn't mean all of the things I said last night..." His voice sounded distant, saddened even.

"You seemed pretty convincing."

"Scarlett, be fair. I was drunk and saying things that made no sense at all,"

"So you don't love Melanie?" She asked it as a sarcastic joke, but soon became frightened at the long pause that ensued. "Ashley?"

"No,"

"No, what Ashley?"

"No, I don't love her," Scarlett's breath stopped altogether. She smiled unconsciously, feeling every feeling from the night disappear.. She had known all along he loved her.

"What do you mean?"

"We've been fighting a lot over small things, and she doesn't want me to change my job-"

"I didn't know you were leaving the publishing business!" Scarlett declared, knowing her only reason for staying in the damned industry was to be near Ashley.

"Well, I wanted to go into politics. She's a democrat and I'm a republican and-"

"Mhm, well that's a shame." Politics were utterly awful. She hated thinking about them, speaking of them, and looking at the people who took part in it. Scarlett only wanted to talk about her and Ashley as a whole. They could go into politics together! She nearly laughed at the thought...

"I'm sorry for boring you, but I did have a reason for calling, I swear." Ashley's voice dropped into a softer note. Scarlett didn't know that Melanie was in the room next to him, watching television. Their quarrels always left them both in separate rooms.

"Well, what is it Ashley?" Scarlett's voice dipped demurely. She wanted him to ask her somewhere, anywhere.

"Come meet me by the park on 54th Street. I have something to tell you and you'll like it, I promise. Be there by nightfall. I'll be waiting," Scarlett jumped from her seat and squealed like a six year old. Emily grinned and turned to look at her. She was dashing into her room, articles of clothing being examined and tossed aside like puppies.

"I'll be there. Good-bye Ashley," Scarlett clicked the phone off and fell back into her bed, the warm mass of her comforters surrounding every inch of her body. A warm happiness crept into the spaces of her empty heart. Her eyes slipped out to the window, gasping as she saw the sun. It was slowly sliding below a hill crest, melting the light away with it. She didn't have much time!

Scarlett quickly began a clothing quest through her closet. Her look had to be sweet, sexy and collected at the same time. Two fingers grasped the silky material of a day dress, but ruled it out as being too dressy. Next, her eyes fell onto a deep blue shirt and dark denim skirt. The shirt was a V-neck, low enough to show some of her pale skin and be sophisticated at the same time. Even the skirt was perfect. Short, only coming down to mid-thigh, with a few man-made holes along the denim. The tight material would shape her figure nicely and if she put some dark leggings underneath it would be matronly enough to please Ashley's modest taste.

Within an hour, Scarlett was perfectly prepared. Emily had pinned her hair into a long, straight pony tail while Scarlett applied layer upon layer of make-up. Tonight, she was going to look perfect for Ashley. This was their deciding night.

Two matching stilettos were slipped onto her tiny feet, and she was out the door like a rocket, chomping on a stick of minty gum. Since the park was a mere two blocks away from her home, taking a car would be rather pointless. Running would have to do. The air was already turning from a thermal red, to inky black.

Her feet were making obnoxious noises, but she was only urging them on faster. It seemed she could not move fast enough. With every passing block of cement, it was a yard closer to Ashley. Some men were taking notice of her walking, and began their usual catcalls. Lame.

When Scarlett finally came to the park, she was disappointed that Ashley had not arrived quite yet. She contently settled onto a bench, tightening the sweater she had snatched around her shoulders. Along with its color, the atmosphere was changing. Crisp winds swirled around Scarlett's ankles, chilling through her skin. The patient moments of waiting were beginning to turn unpleasant. This was taking forever! Where was Ashley? Her bored eyes went to watching the sky. It was constantly becoming darker. First slate gray, than deep black, and finally purple. Hours were passing. First one, than two. Nine o'clock swiftly was turning to eleven. The area was growing silent, but Scarlett remained, the small sweater clutched to her skin. Anger was pent up inside of her. So this was how it was going to be? Here she was, deserted in a park among seven year olds. Was this Ashley's plan to humiliate her? Hot tears were starting to form at the back of her eyelids. No, she was not going to sit here and be his bitch. She was not going to be his puppet any longer. Scarlett told herself she could never love a man like this. One who so recklessly used her. Did Ashley honestly think the green eyes and pale skin on her face were only painted there? Did he not think she was a human? He was an asshole, one who did not deserve her time.

As twenty more minutes of silent ranting went on, Scarlett's rage only was collected. Eleven thirty at night came, and she went.

Scarlett leisurely walked home, not bothering to rush back to the questionings of Emily and Cathy. Her rhythmic footfalls were comforting and deafening at the same time. Sometimes she felt as if her own thoughts would drown her and leave her mind a lifeless form that could process nothing.

It did not take long, and it was only irony, that a rushed pair of footsteps came up behind Scarlett, just as the key to her apartment was being fished for within her pockets. A panting Ashley Wilkes stood at her doorstep, bending at the waist and gasping for air.

"Scarlett, we need to talk about something. I am so-" His raspy voice was cut short by her own brittle tones.

"Save it. I don't want to hear anything from you ever again Ashley Wilkes. You made me believe time and time again that you loved me, but you don't. And you know what I realized? I don't love you back. You're nothing but a scared bitch who can't handle a girl of my -how did you put it?- 'strength and passion'. You don't deserve me." A huge weight was instantly lifted from her. Caged anger and years worth of confusion had escaped her, vented towards the person who deserved hearing them. Scarlett wanted to tell him to 'make like an egg and beat it' and she would have, if it wasn't for his face. It was so pale, and clammed up, soaked in perspiration. Obviously he had been running to look for her. Who knows where he had been before? Making out with Melanie, perhaps. For the first time, this picture did not hurt Scarlett. It only disgusted her.

"Can't-can't we talk about this, baby?" He was pleading. Scarlett wanted to see him beg, wanted to see him embarrass himself, just the way she had embarrassed herself over him. She wanted to leave him sniveling on the doorstep, but leave him with something to remember....

"I'm not your baby," With that, she shoved the key she had finally retrieved into the door, and walked inside, feeling free for the first time in years.


	5. Aron's Song

_A chapter I had not planned, but vital to understanding some things about Scarlett._

A warming noise filled the silent apartment, as Scarlett and Cathy sat in a heap on the ground, the stereo turned onto full volume.

_Say you're sorry,_

_That face of an angel,_

_Comes out just when you need it to._

_As I paced back and forth all this time,_

_'Cause I, honestly believed in you._

The gentle lull of Taylor Swift's voice purred against her ear drums. Tears were forming against her will, threatening to bubble over. It was nearing midnight, and they both had just given up a large part of their lives. Scarlett had let go of Ashley. There was nothing left within her that felt any sort of love for him. Cathy had broken up with her boyfriend of two years. She had found him with his tongue shoved down another girl's throat.

As the song was drawing to a close, Cathy blankly stared at the wall in front of her, blinking slowly.

"This world is bullshit," She stated dully. Scarlett turned to look. Her vision was blocked by water, but she could make out her roommate's feature's. Cathy was a cute girl, with shoulder length brunette hair and bright blue eyes. Any man who could catch her was lucky, for she had a fleety personality.

"I know, babe." Scarlett couldn't help but agree. The world and its society was so muddy from the many feet before which had trampled it down. As each year went on, the mud would only deepen.

"I mean, ugh, God! Men are such rat bastards! I hate them all. First they look all cute and sexy, and then the next thing you know you're either having their babies or watching them leave you--or both!" Cathy crossed her legs over Scarlett's, absently fiddling with her cell phone.

"Isn't that why we don't trust them? Only the stupid girls fall in love." Her face twisted in displeasure. Love, ha! What a fool's world to believe love existed. Ashley was only a beautiful curtain, one who had covered her world for over five years, blinding her to distraction. That's all men were. Curtains to be played with and teased. Nothing to be loved.

"What can we do?"

"Get drunk." This was Scarlett's favorite solution to unresolvable problems. Cathy grinned and rose to her feet, grabbing a bottle of vodka from their 'booze shelf'. Two glasses were poured, the translucent liquid sloshing over each glass side. They both took large gulps and clunked their glasses down. Without uttering a word, they lapsed into a reflective silence. Scarlett could not believe she had wasted so many years of her life on this guy. Great men had been disposed all in the hope Ashley would wake up and realize he loved her. She sharply turned her head away to hide the thoughts that clearly showed behind her eyes.

Her thoughts fell back to her only previous love, the only one she had loved before she had gotten caught up in Ashley.

First and last was a boy named Aron. Scarlett had been twelve. Her thoughts were carefree and joyous all the time, though they were still not poisoned with Ashley. She had lived in a gaited community in the Northern portion of Clayton County. Her white home, which was affectionately known as Tara, sat on top of a emerald green hill engraved with winding red paths. Surrounding the home was a sprawling mass of green fields, dotted with a wide pool, humble stable(housing four horses), and trails. Miles and miles of trails. Inside was the most expensive furniture, highest grade of china, paired perfectly with a set of beautiful girls. Ellen, Scarlett, Suellen, and Careen. Gerald took pride in the pretty faces at Tara, never missing an opportunity to flaunt them. Everybody grew to know who the O'Hara girls were.

One afternoon, Scarlett was walking outside, alone. Her house was not the place she wanted to be after any one of the girls had returned home with a bad grade on an exam. Instead of walking to the stable, which was her normal refuge, she went to the only paved path that lead visitors to and from Tara. Along the black road was a creamy pavement, and on top of that sat an unfamiliar boy. One who Scarlett had never seen before. In her hands was a sweating Coca-Cola with a pink straw through the middle. She took a long drink, gaping at the stranger. By the look of him, this boy was a skater, one who liked rock music and drug trips. He was something totally foreign, and something to be explored. Boldly, she walked towards the male. In the sunlight, his long hair was chestnut brown, eyes a light hazel, face as pale as her own. Usually, long hair was something detestable within her, but this kid's face, was...well, beautiful. It was weary and ragged as well, most likely from a rough childhood paired with numerous acid trips.

"Who are you?" She asked, cupping one hand over her eyes to block the harsh sun rays.

"Aron," His tone was brittle and cold, prodding her to leave. There was a large alarm within her that went off, saying this one was a loner. Still, she persisted.

"I'm Scarlett," The boy made no answer, only turned away to stare directly into the sunlight. "That will ruin your eyes." She stated. It was something her mother always preached. He turned to her with that same frigid expression.

"You know what else hurts my eyes?"

"What?" She asked innocently.

"You, standin' right in front of me." He was beginning to glare, looking as if she were something to spit upon. Scarlett huffed, placing both hands onto her hips. The nerve!

"What are you saying?" She questioned, riled up at being called a name by this greasy hobo. In reply, he only shrugged, turning back to watching the sun. It was moving at a snail's pace, and Scarlett found nothing interesting about it. His silences were annoying, and made her feel as if she were talking a lot, like some fool. "Talk much?" She teased, knowing full well he would not respond.

"No." He said, tossing his head to move a strand of his hair. Slowly, he pulled his eyes to look at Scarlett. Aron found her moderately pretty, but too self-focused to be beautiful. It only hurt that she was annoying and would not leave him be. He pulled himself to full height, prepared to leave. An amused smile came over his face as Scarlett saw he was four inches taller than her. "What?"

"Nothing," She muttered, knowing he did not know she had fallen in love with him the moment he smiled at her. For the first time in her life, Scarlett had found a boy she could not have, and she wanted him more than anything. He was a mystery, an enigma, but glamorous, and fixable. She did not know anything about him aside from his looks, but knew she loved him.

So it became over the next summer Scarlett and Aron fell out of their minds in love with each other. Scarlett broke through his tough exterior, forcing him to confess what made him that way. Their friendship began slowly They would bicker until late hours of the night, where Aron would become so pissed that he would jut tell her a small bit of information to shut her up. Most often they were stories of fights he had battled, or beatings he had endured. Theses tales made her eyes go wide, and mouth clamp closed. It was inevitable that Aron soon began to enjoy Scarlett's company. She was small, cute, and humorous if need be. He would come into the community more often, and not just to peacefully shoot up. His purpose was to see Scarlett, and she never failed to show. Their tolerance for one another grew and grew until one day Aron demanded for Scarlett to kiss him. That was where it all began. They fought like a cat and dog, but loved each other so wildly it made up for those things. Nobody knew of their blooming relationship, for Aron did not attend her school. He lived on a different side of town and in a different and much lower social class. At night, Aron would come into the wooded area behind her home and they could sit for hours, holding hands, kissing, or talking about things they were too young to understand. This blissful courting lasted for one whole year. Until Ashley came into the picture.

They had known each other for a long time, but only distantly. Soon, the two built a trust in one another at the school setting, and Scarlett found Ashley the perfect person to tell of Aron. Scarlett knew better than to tell even her friends of her after school activity. But Ashley was understanding, kind, and loyal. But it turned out, he disapproved. Ashley told Scarlett that Aron came from a violent side of the County. His parents were brutal towards him, and he was forced to live in poverty. Of course, Scarlett knew all of this, and laughed flippantly, disregarding any concern. All she knew was that she loved Aron. Of course, the boys in school paid her a lot of attention and they were rich and handsome, and Scarlett flirted with them carelessly, knowing that she _loved_ Aron.

Though, everything had to change. It always did.

After school, Scarlett routinely tossed her backpack onto the ground, rushing into the kitchen for a snack. What she did not expect to see was Aron in the living room with Ashley and Gerald, looking cold and unafraid. Around Scarlett, he never contained this bitter look. She knew what was making him uneasy. Quickly, Scarlett sank back against the kitchen wall, eavesdropping artfully.

"Ashley, explain to me again what you heard," Gerald bellowed, sizing up the boy in front of him.

"Well, that Scarlett had something going on with this boy and, sir, well, I just don't think it's right." Ashley sounded concerned and nervous. It took all of Scarlett's restraint not to burst in on the scene and protest everything Ashley was saying. How could he be doing this to her?

"Is this true, Aron?" Her father questioned, turning red in the face.

"Yes." Aron answered bravely, unafraid of the two men of higher class. Money and riches meant nothing to him. They never had. Gerald looked stricken, and sucked in air, prepared to boom with anger.

"You know as well as I this is unacceptable! If you were wise, you would be stayin' away from my daughter. I won't have her ruining her name! God be it, not with the trash from downtown-" His words were interrupted by Aron turning on his heel and storming from the house. He was not about to take the insults hurled at him from the little Irishman.

Scarlett emerged from her hiding place, tears thick with eyeliner sliding down her cheeks. She was stumbling in her efforts to reach Aron, fumbling to find him. Oh, Gerald didn't know him! How could he just judge him like that? A firm arm was at her wrist, holding her immobile.

"No, Scarlett." Gerald spoke sternly. Her flailing body wrestled and twisted to get free, but her efforts were futile. After she used every drop of energy in her body, her sobbing frame fell against a scratchy chair. It was too great of a pain to see his daughter weakened, so Gerald left the room. Ashley was awkwardly left in the room. Softly, he whispered:

"I just wanted to protect you," With swollen eyes, Scarlett stared up at him incredulously.

"I loved him," Aron was the only one who made her skin jump alive, or body burn with heat. He was also her best friend. Ashley walked to her side very apprehensively.

"You don't know what he could have done to you. Cold, rough trash like that can ruin a name more quickly than you can bat an eyes. I only wanted to help you, Scarlett. As a friend," His hand touched her shoulder softly.

Scarlett had then resumed her frantic crying, knowing she would never see Aron again. Her impressionable mind at first hated Ashley, but as each week without her love went by, slowly began to believe him. From belief grew love, love that he was trying to protect her innocent mind. From there she convinced herself that Ashley was in love with her and tada, here they were at twenty years old.

Scarlett should have discovered he was a snake from the first time he had ruined her life.

Coming back from her bleak tripe down memory lane, Scarlett realized Emily had fallen into a deep sleep, her mouth hanging open. She did not understand why Aron had made her think of great man. Maybe it was because he was one of the only genuine people she had ever known. Heaving a sigh, she lay her head back against the couch, waiting for a restless night of sleep to come, in anticipation of returning to work tomorrow.

**Author's Note:** This was just a chapter that came to me easily. Everyone had their first love, and Scarlett's just happened to be unlucky. This happened when she was twelve, so she did not have has much pride or sense in her, explaining how easily she could forgive Ashley. :D Please Review!!!


	6. In More Ways Than One

Chapter 6

Awaking the next morning was nothing short of blissful. It was the same joy of a caged bird getting to spread its wings for the first time in years. Truly, that was what Scarlett was experiencing. The following week in the office, after the Ashley ordeal, was actually not awkward at all. Ashley remained calm and respectful on the brief occasions where they met in the mornings or at staff meetings. He even stopped at her desk to make a personal apology with a small flower in hand.

However, none of these small things made Scarlett accept him back in her life. She only coldly granted his forgiveness and continued her work, typing on a keyboard or answering a phone call. Like a beaten puppy, Ashley accepted this and went about his own life, doing his very best to put Scarlett from his mind. He was not the only one trying to forget her.

­-­--­_____________________

Rhett Butler lounged in a tall leather chair, staring blankly at the sales pitch an employee was offering. He fought to focus on the brightly illuminated graph put up on the wall, but it was no use.

The fresh image of blazing green eyes still lingered in his mind. Her words had sparked an undeniable interest deep within him. Scarlett O'Hara was a girl of rare spirit. He had seen so many women more intelligent, beautiful, and clever than she, but none of them held her-more exciting qualities. The words she had spoken he had never heard uttered by a woman. While her temper stirred an interest within him mentally, her body made him hungry. Ashley Wilkes was one lucky son of a bitch. She had the slender waist and hips, with a curvaceous set of legs that drove him to madness. He knew even as she stormed from the men's restroom that night seven days prior that he had to see her again. There was no questioning that. Rhett had planned within his mind many ways to see her again, seeing as she worked for his company, and as he sat listening to this uninteresting presentation, it came to him.

"Mark?" He broke in on one of the boy's sentences.

"Yes, sir?" His voice was bending under the pressure of being personally addressed by the biggest name in publishing.

"Your ideas on sales tactic contain some form of potential. I would like to hold a board meeting to promote some of these ideas with the representatives." Rhett folded his hands together, leaning back in his chair. This thought that had been pitched to him had the potential to go somewhere. Mark was obviously a smart kid, with the college degree to prove it. A Bachelors' Degree from Yale University.

Mark swallowed the arid patches forming in his throat. "With the representatives?"

"Yes, that would make sense now, wouldn't it?" He flashed a grin to the boy. How perfect. All six representatives of the publishing world meeting him in New York. James Marshall, Lesley Lombard, Ashley Wilkes, Brian Hayes, Patrick Reynold, and Adrian Mathews. The six men and women that read and approved every novel and story to be published under his companies' name. They were the glue that held Butler Company of Publishing together. Mark looked astonished, with his mouth gaping open. "Maybe you could give them a call?" Rhett hinted.

"I'll alert them all promptly, thank you sir!" Mark rushed to gather all of the materials he had entered the mahogany filled room with, and creaked the door open before Rhett changed his mind.

"Mark?"

"Yes, ?"

"Make sure they bring their secretaries."

____________________________________________

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Scarlett screamed from behind her desk, trembling from the shock Ashley had laid upon her. She was going to New York to meet Rhett Butler?!?! Luckily the room where they were meeting had a closed door.

"Yes, is that a problem?" Ashley questioned, perplexed. Scarlett shot him a 'are-you-that-stupid' look, before realizing he had left the restroom as Rhett revealed himself. He didn't know.

"No," She breathed, sinking back down into her chair, staring into oblivion.

"Good, than I'll expect you packed and ready on Friday morning?"

"Yes."

"Good." Ashley looked at her apprehensively before exiting the room. He certainly hoped nothing was amiss. If anyone could ruin a nice business trip, it was Scarlett.

Scarlett was left in her prison of a room, wallowing in fear, rage, and sorrow. She had always wanted to go to New York, but she knew Rhett Butler would make the experience hell in more ways than one.

Review, review!


	7. A Second Occurance

Chapter Seven

**Author's Note:** This chapter somewhat represents the Atlanta Bazaar, though not exactly. Ashley and Scarlett are sharing a hotel room, but this is only because they are colleagues and friends,_ not_ because they have any romantic feeling for one another. Besides, the rooms where they sleep are separated by a wall. Enjoy. xD

"New York City," Scarlett breathed, staring up at the towering buildings and glittering lights. This city made Atlanta look like a sedate village compared to its own extravagance. Her green eyes brightened under the neon signs of shops, bakeries, and businesses. The cold air and damp breezes seemed to carry away every horrible Yankee accent, sweeping them off to the slums of the city. New York had prepared itself for the likes of Scarlett O'Hara. Though, even the imperfections of the large town looked quaint next to a freshly cleaned shop window, brightly illuminated with mannequins decorated in silk gowns. It did not take long for the short attention span to kick in. When it did, no beautiful architecture could intrigue Scarlett.

"Ashley, look at these shoes!" She exclaimed, rushing to the nearby display window, pressing both palms up against the glass. They were perfect. Identical stilettos in the creamiest red satin, with straps around the ankle and peep toe as well!

"Isn't New York City the fashion capital of the world, Scarlett?" Ashley sauntered to her side, readjusting his coat. Personally, he believed the city was cold and dreary, practically breeding poverty in every corner. He would much prefer the warm, lazy afternoons and red soil of the South.

"Have you been brushing up on your _Seventeen _magazine, Ashley?" She smirked, whipping her shoulders around to face him. As usual, he looked miserable. Why couldn't this man have a good time? Ashley was a baby in every situation. This was a beautiful city, and at least_ she_ was determined to make the best of it, walk every cement square, visit every attraction, and see every bit of garbage cluttering its streets.

"Only for you," He put half his heart into a smile. Scarlett pulled the thin jacket she was wearing around her shoulders. She had chosen the garment because it was fashionable (a Versaci original), and not practical. Her fingers touched the deep blue cloth, remembering how she had maxed out a credit card for this jacket. At the moment she fervently wished for a heavy winter parka. Scarlett wanted to do a bit more sight-seeing before heading off to the dinner party her Publishing Company had arranged, but the stabbing cold was tempting her back to the safety of her hotel. Besides, she had a lot of preparing to do.

"Let's go back to the hotel, it's freezing out here," For dramatic effect, her teeth chattered.

"I couldn't agree more." Ashley said, walking back in the direction they came. Scarlett growled behind him, wanting to steal the protective warmth of his coat.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Are you ready, Scarlett?" Ashley called, twisting the tie around his neck.

"Almost!" She yelled through the barrier of her door. With finality, she closed the clasp of her necklace. Discarded garments lay about her on the floor, the bed, the chairs, in bright heaps of color and straying ribbons. Quickly, she stood, smoothing the white material of the gown she had finally chosen. It fluttered to the floor, concealing the silver pumps she had shoved her small feet into. The dress itself was stunning. Crisp white, with a large slit up the leg, zero straps, a slight glitter in the top, and a sparkling silver shawl draped around her shoulders. She looked like a princess in the dress. Her raven tresses tumbled in voluminous curls to her shoulders, a single white lily placed among the hair. It contrasted wonderfully with her black hair color. A single swipe of white shadow clung to her eye lids, a trace of mascara along the lashes. Scarlett opened her eyes, staring into the bright green pools. She raised her chin and her pale, black-fringed eyes sparkled in the silvery shadows that the moon was casting down. The effect of makeup was amazing. Even the blush along her cheeks brought out her eye color.

Ashley glanced at his watch, growing impatient. The event was set to begin in a half an hour. He rushed from his own section of the hotel room, and flung Scarlett's door open. Seeing her appearance, his mouth went dry. As he stared, she was brushing a final application of gloss onto her lips. Ashley gulped. Scarlett was a stunner. Her thin body curved under the white silk in the exact right places, though remained lean in most areas. He loved her slender white hands, for they were ideal for holding. The dress she was wearing nearly made him pant. A long leg that peeked ever so invitingly from a slit, begged to be touched. His fingers acutely curled into claws. If he wasn't careful, he would reach out and grab her. How beautiful could a woman be? It made him sick to think he _could_ have had her. She had loved him and he had thrown her away with both hands. "Are you ready?" He managed to choke out.

The triumph reached Scarlett's face very quickly. Ashley had taken notice of her beauty. Not only that, but he was nearly drooling. It was actually quite flattering.

"Yes, I suppose." Gently her arm was slipped through his, as he lead them out of the hotel. She did not know having her small body so close to him was making him burn with male desire.

_____________________________________________________-

Walking into an extravagant party in the heart of New York City on the arm of Ashley Wilkes was what Scarlett had always dreamed of. Why wasn't it making her happy? Inwardly, she smiled. It was because he was a totally, and complete douchebag.

The pair was late coming into the ballroom, and as they finally arrived, it was bursting with commotion. There had to be two hundred people there!

"Since when did we have so many employees?" Scarlett hissed to Ashley, taking the tentative first steps into the well lit room. The wooden floor was scrubbed to shining with a stage at the very end. An exaggerated band was playing a slow tune, their instruments gleaming with polish. Along the floor was an array of tables draped in identical white table cloths, with white chairs and accessories about it. Mostly everything in the room was white. A winter theme perhaps?

"Sine when did we have so many _attractive_ employees?" He whispered back, greedily taking in the image of the girls in the room with low cut dresses. Scarlett rolled her eyes and looked at the cows. None of them compared with her. The hall was full of girls, girls who floated in bright dresses, sashes around the waist, thin tights peeping from beneath hems; round little shoulders bare, the faintest trace of fragrance trailing behind them; shawls draped around arms; sweating champagne flutes dangling from fingers; girls with dark hair smoothed sleekly from ears into styles so heavy, their heads tilted back in saucy pride; girls with masses of golden curls about their necks that tossed and danced with any head movement. Laces and silks and braids and ribbons, all brightly covering small bodies. Indeed, Ashley had been correct. Most of the females _were_ attractive. _But not as stunning as me_, she thought, jerking the hem of her dress up as Ashley walked forward.

"Brent, Stuart!" Ashley shouted to his friends over the dull noise of the music and crowd. Damn, here we go, Scarlett thought. As secretary, she would have to play the part of sidekick, and take part in all of the customary small talk, join in politely when laughter came. These dinners and functions were never any fun when Ashley's boring colleagues came around. She could not flirt or kiss any handsome men. But, New York city was a different town... maybe a few glasses of champagne and intelligent conversation would not hurt

A waiter decked out in a black tuxedo came by with a tray of tempting alcohol. Scarlett tried to be as sneaky as possible in slipping one off and talking a large glug. Ashley never liked her to drink at anything that had to do with work.

Four drinks and God knows how many mindless words with fellow employees later, Scarlett found herself in a predicament. Her bladder was full to the brim, and it was currently impossible to detach herself from Ashley's side. She had been held it in as long as possible, maybe forty five minutes. It was becoming an emergency. Both feet began to prance, unable to hold the urge to run to the restroom any longer. She hurried in the direction of the bathroom, telling Ashley that she would 'be right back' when he called after her. Her need for a restroom was so urgent, she even forgot to sway her hips.

Scarlett disappeared behind the curtain that held a long hallway with two bathrooms on each side. A men's and women's. Obviously, her hand reached for the women's knob first, turning it with a loud jerk. To her dismay, it jammed and refused to open.

"Hello?" Scarlett yelled from behind the barrier from the door, desperately trying to push the door open.

"Occupado!" A voice replied, flushing a toilet and flipping on the water from the sink. Scarlett moaned, shutting both eyes briefly. In an normal circumstance, she could have waited. But she _had_ to piss. Her eyes darted to the door directly on the opposite side of the women's. It would have to do. Damn this place for only having single stalls! This would have to be the second time this month she had to use a men's room. Scarlett glanced up the hallway for good measure, thankful that the band was making an announcement and detouring anybody from sneaking off to the restroom. Her fingers grabbed the silver handle, twisting it open. Thankfully, it opened without protest. Scarlett walked inside the small square of a room, gently closing the door behind her. When she turned around again, her eyes widened to massive proportions.

A smirking Rhett Butler leaned against the counter, black hair disheveled, tie loosened. His attire was very contemporary, as usual. The white teeth below his red lips were showing, an eyebrow raised expectantly. A few strands of hair hung over his forehead, making him look like he had just awoken. Scarlett's heart began to thud wildly. The way his hair settled over his dark skin, and the thin, but rich material of his suit was incredibly hot. Her eyes grazed the relaxed muscles under his shirt. All breath left her lungs.

"Well, hello." He said, drinking in her creamy skin. Setting up this dinner event was no mistake. He knew Scarlett would be here, looking sexy. His face showed no change, but his body most certainly did. The leg pressed against the slit of her dress made his pulse increase. Her tumbled hair and heaving chest made his blood turn to fire. The surprised but angered look in her eyes made his dark eyes stay away from her skin, and look into _her._ Her quivering red lips begged to be taken under his own. Only his amusement kept him from showing any of these emotions. There was a furious look forming in her face, accusing him of being in the men's restroom where she intended to be. It was absurd, and charming. Rhett leaned forward and grinned. "Have you grown fond of the men's restroom?"

Scarlett snapped out of her dreamy tryst. She had forgotten about his apparent sense of humor, which was making fun of her blunders.

"No! I just- just..."

"Where's Ashley Wilkes? I didn't see him when I came in," Rhett's throaty chuckle deepened as her face flushed with blood. She looked about ready to lunge at him.

"Haha, you're hilarious." She sarcastically replied, gathering the hem of her dress, ready to go check on that women's bathroom one more time.

"Still in love with him?" Scarlett snapped around. How was this any of his business? Oh, if he just wasn't her boss...

"That's none of your business, Rhett Butler!" She spat his name at him.

"So you are," He stated, folding both arms.

"I am not!" She flushed an even deeper state of red. This wasn't appropriate to be discussing with her boss. Whatever she said, he made her sound like a child. He only proved this by laughing. "God, why am I even telling you this?!" exclaimed Scarlett, purely flustered.

"Let me tell you, I'm glad to hear it," Rhett turned back to the mirror, straightening both tie and hair, morphing into a businessman once again. Scarlett frowned and looked at his sinister face, searching for an answer. He was so utterly confusing it kept her on the edge of a very dangerous knife.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rhett scoffed, and looked back at Scarlett, more bemused with her than ever before.

"It means I want you to dance with me. Come on," He nodded his head towards the door. Scarlett swallowed roughly and backed up.

"Let me fix my hair," She nervously touched at the curls, knowing full well she would not last a dance without visiting the restroom. Her fingers groped for the knob and push it open, walking into the cool air of the hall. She had not realized her temperature had risen a great deal in that cramped area. Rhett emerged behind her, a smile on his lips. He began to walk back down the narrow hallway.

"Rhett?" Scarlett called, just as she was about to walk into the ladies' room.

"Yes?" He turned to look at her, slowly walking backwards.

"I'm only dancing with you because you're my boss," Rhett grinned, lighting his dark features.

"Of course,"

_AN: Please review! Next chapter is ready, and beware, conflict is coming!_


	8. Poker Face

_Please Review!_

When the sound of his heavy tread disappeared from the hall, Scarlett bolted into the ladies' room, slamming the door behind her. She blew out the air in her cheeks, staring at the pale reflection in the mirror. Everything looked just as it had two hours ago. Blush perfectly swept over a layer of foundation, a glossy sheen to her lips, eyes looking like dampened emeralds glittering in the light. Nobody was as beautiful or as elegant as she. But why did she feel such a magnetic attraction to Rhett Butler? Scarlett had never seen a body like his, never seen a face so dark and alluring. His eyes were arresting, though they were not any exotic color. Black. No color in them at all, yet they made her wild. She had seen men with eyes the colors of diamonds, or melted amber, and her own color was the brightest green she had ever seen. It was odd that the black ones made her feel this way.

There was one thing Scarlett was realizing; she could not get through this dance without the help of Emily or Catherine. She jerked the material of her gown up, pulling the cellphone that was trapped in her tights out from its cave. Her fingers flipped through her contacts list with experience, locating her home apartment number. The wireless began to mindlessly ring on the other end, and Scarlett tapped her foot with the rhythm. Finally, a voice broke through the line.

"Hellooo? Emily speaking!" Thank God they were home.

"Emily! It's Scarlett!" She sat down on the toilet, struggling with the phone, and relieving her screaming bladder at the same moment.

"Scarlett? Hey, baby! How is New York with your hunk of a boss?"

"Please, Ashley? Not anymore. I have a new problem," Scarlett stood and flushed the toilet, shuffling over to the sink. All the lotion she had applied to her hands before coming to the event slipped down the drain. The phone was balanced between an ear and shoulder.

"Oooh, who is it?"

"Rhett Butler." Her hands cut the water flow, reaching for a towel. Emily smiled back in Atlanta.

"Isn't he the 'ego-tistical jerk' who is also your boss?"

"Yes! But he's also gorgeous, Em." With now clean hands, Scarlett leaned back against the door, allowing the panic to take over her senses. How could she dance with Rhett? There was nothing good to be gained around him. Something about his aura bothered her. It was that he did not need her. Every other man she had dated had absolutely needed her. They wanted her body like animals, longed to stare into her eyes. Rhett showed no outward interest in her. He didn't even show that he liked her in any way. He had said one sentence, one that had made her heart stumble, but at the moment she could not remember what it was. This feeling of being unneeded scared the hell out of her. She had just went through this with Ashley. A stunning man, one who made her senses fail, but one who felt she could be played with, one who would abandon her at any moment. Breathless, Scarlett explained this all to Emily, regretting her decision to dance with her boss.

"Honey, are you armed?" Emily asked. Scarlett pouted, shaking her head. Her weapons were back at the hotel. Lipstick, eyeliner, hair spray, gloss, blush, and the like.

"No! Oh God, what am I going to do?" She moaned, pushing a hand through a tangle of curls.

"This. You are going to put your best poker face on. Pretend you don't need him. Who needs tall, sexy, rich men? Make him want you. Make him _need_ you. Play his game until you're at his heart, but don't you dare let him near yours, understand?" Every word in that speech clicked within her mind perfectly. She was not going to fall for Rhett Butler the way she had loved Ashley. As much as her wounded mind wanted to, she was not going to succumb to his charm.

"You're right. I don't-" There was a knock at the door. A loud one. "Em, I have to go. Let me call you back, bye!" She snapped the wireless closed and shoved it back into her tights. The door was flung open, only to see an impatient blond waiting. Her icy eyes glazed over Scarlett's body, bone straight hair twisted around a bony finger. The girl was a stunner, wearing a green cocktail dress. It made her bronze skin look like gold.

"Excuse me, Snow White," said she, waving a hand at her apparel. Scarlett growled. Snow White? Wearing pale skin and a white dress together on her looked gorgeous. Did it make her look washed out? She itched to look in a mirror.

"Your extensions are cute. They go well with the spray on tan," Scarlett glared, narrowing both eyes. What a frigid bitch. Luckily she was prepared in the art as well. She squirmed past the woman, careful not to touch their skin. The last thing she needed was a streak of bronze over her arms. Scarlett did not stick around to hear what comeback the girl had waiting. Something else was waiting for her at the edge of the hallway.

"What the hell are you doing, Scarlett?" Ashley asked, pointing towards the bathroom door, which luckily had been closed. Still fuming, Scarlett placed both palms on her waist.

"Setting that bitch straight," Ashley placed both fingers on the bridge of his nose, rubbing in frustration.

"Do you know who that is?" He asked, fatigued.

"No, who?" She questioned, not really caring.

"Rhett Butlers' girlfriend."

__________________________________________________________-

Scarlett stomped out into the ballroom, eyes shrinking back from the twinkling lights. The entire ballroom had filled with beautiful people in her absence. She would notice them later. In her fury, she was on a hunt for Rhett Butler.

Her heels made an empty clack on the floor, the sound drowned out by many collective voices. For brief moments an arm would catch hers, and she would be forced to pause and greet an old friend, or be complimented by a man. She plastered a smile on her face, weaving through each tightly packed body.

Then, she saw him.

He stood with another man, one who was nearly equal in height though not nearly as handsome. They were talking in low voices, Rhett's face darkened with intensity. Scarlett blinked rapidly, trying not to focus on his rather obvious good-looks. She had seen many handsome men, and he was no different. Pulling her chin up, Scarlett walked forward, tilting her eyes from beneath their lashes for full effect. Rhett noticed her immediately, a grin breaking the serious nature surrounding him.

"Mr. Butler, how nice to see you again!" She widened her fake smile, holding out a delicate hand for his lips to kiss. He introduced her to his colleague before the man dismissed himself for another glass of brandy.

"How is the green eyed vixen tonight?" His face tipped closely to hers, hands nearly grazing her hips when he dropped her small hand. Wonderful did not begin to describe Scarlett O'Hara. She was stunning. Beautiful and passionate. The only girl he had ever met who did not call him 'Mr. Butler' constantly. He wanted her terribly. He looked at her slanting green eyes, wide and glinting, and the tender curve of her lips and for a moment his breath stopped.

"Mr. Butler, I'm-"

"When are you going to drop the formality?" He asked impatiently. His black eyes took her in from hair to heel in a glance that missed nothing, the old impudent unclothing glance which always made her shiver. "I can't dance with you addressing me as such."

"I'm _not_ going to dance with you," She stated, a smile causing a dimple to come to her cheek. An irritation roused within him.

"And why not?" He asked, voice remaining neutrally disinterested.

"For one-" Hot words were dangerously lurking behind her tongue when a smirk touched at his lips. She could not explain anything to this man!

"Rhett, darling!" A cheery, bubbly voice cut through the rant she was about to spill onto Rhett. It was extension bitch. Rhett turned, nearly grimacing at the small frame making her way through the crowd.

"Chantal, have you met Ms. O'Hara?" Her icy glare slid back to Scarlett. A shocked shade of recognition colored her pretty face, but was quickly replaced by forced friendliness.

"Not until now. How nice to meet you Ms. O'Hara!" Her voice was so sweet it was toxic.

"I just can't take my eyes off your dress!" Scarlett replied, meeting her mischief hardened eyes with her own. They were both queen bee's and could play this game well. Her attention was turned back to Rhett, a gentle hand placed on his arm, in a seemingly unconscious manner. "Did you not promise me a dance, _Rhett_?" She batted her lashes quickly, watching an amused admiration touch at his smile.

"I believe I did. Excuse us." He dipped his head to Chantal, walking side by side with Scarlett to the dance floor. "Where did you meet her?" He asked casually, flashing an approachable smile to anyone looking his direction.

"Bathroom. Thanks for telling me you had a girlfriend, by the way." She turned her once demurely slanted eyes up to shoot daggers at him. Rhett only gave one of his deep-throated chuckles.

"Is that jealousy I hear?" They were both standing amidst a group of dancers, a slow orchestral ballad playing. The violins screeched with a melancholy laced melody, sweetened by the deep notes of a clarinet. Without hesitation, Rhett's strong arm was around her back, the other taking her hand. Scarlett seethed, but said nothing as he moved their feet. Both eyes looked out at the crowd. Many stares were focused on her and Rhett, followed by the scandalized whisperings of many girls.

"Rhett—Rhett, why are they staring?"

"Because you're a secretary and I own the company," He said it as if it was as natural as the dawn. To Scarlett, it was degrading. Just a secretary? Did position matter so much now, or was society still stuck in the 1920's? She had always been the most privileged belle at each dance, club, and function back in Atlanta. Now she was the peasant.

"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this..." Her arms pushed against his firm chest, struggling to escape the hold he had on her. He did not relent, only kept them moving.

"Do you honestly care what they think?" His voice sounded rather disappointed.

"What? Oh, - no, I guess not."

"Good! Ignore the stares, they'll look at us anyway." Rhett pulled her struggling body more closely to him. His lips lowered to her ear. "Relax," He cooed, smiling against the black mass of her curls. Scarlett tugged her neck away from his lips, heart thumping against her ribcage. His arms only slithered about her hips more closely, his laughter reverberating in her ears. He was doing this just to piss her off.

"Could you hold me any flipping tighter?" She questioned breathlessly, back bent against his chest. She dug her fingernails into his hand, annoyed as he did not flinch.

"Well, I could try..."

"That's not a very business-like thing to say to a little ole' secretary." Scarlett hissed, self-consciously looking back at the crowd. As his chuckling continued, she furtively opened one eye.

"Than you wouldn't think what I'm thinking is very business-like either," His dark eyes lock with hers and Scarlett feels a spasm in her groin. The annoyance and anger she had felt left her body in a rush of nervous apprehension.

"I think you're a hound," She giggled softly and caressed the final word until it might have been darling. Oh God, what was he thinking about? As her eyes met his again, Scarlett soaked in all of his features. The swarthy face and perfect white teeth, the muscular body pressed against hers... she gulped.

Scarlett pulled her eyes away from his, watching as women flit past her in flashes of silk and taffeta dresses, elderly women in starch blue velvet, tall, thin brunettes in scarlet ruffles, glamorous blonds in green cocktail dresses...wait, that one wasn't normal. Chantal's bony finger tapped at her shoulder before Scarlett could say a word.

"Rhett promised me a dance as well," Chantal flipped a lock of luminescent hair over her shoulder, batting both eyes sweetly.

"Yeah?" She peered at her boss, wondering how long he had been with this hoe. Rhett frowned and spoke some charming words to Chantal, not immediately noticing Scarlett walking away. Her fingers gently shoved through silk and white satin, women that smelled of cheap teen spirit and expensive Chanel No. 5 along with uncomfortable men in tuxedos. She slipped past all of the crowded tables, walking to a dark corner, one where the lights did not hit, and eyes were not attracted to. Just as her body became enveloped in the shadows along with humiliation, a burning hand caught her arm.

"When will I see you again?" Rhett asked, a small grin on his lips even though Scarlett could not see.

"Never, I hope." She responded coldly. The full effect of his leaving her in the middle of a dance hit her. It was the first time Scarlett O'Hara had been discarded for another girl. Rhett chuckled.

"Not never, Scarlett."

"Why don't you go back to _her_?" She wished he would just go away and leave her to brood. His hands were on her small arms, forcing her to face him.

"Don't be angry about-"

"Take your hands off of me!" Scarlett flung herself out of his reach, thoroughly fuming. He was sending her so many mixed signals... it was all too confusing. She had forgotten to be sweet to him. It was so easy to forget kindness in his presence. His fingers dropped from her skin, remote blankness coming over his face. Scarlett felt like cracking him in the face for abandoning her on the dance floor like that. He was so lucky. For a moment they both stared at each other in silence, black against green in a staring match for the ages. That was until Rhett smiled wickedly, taking great amusement in her.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Scarlett." He said.

"I don't think so," She scoffed, staring up at him.

"Be at my office by ten thirty tomorrow."

"For what?" Scarlett questioned as he left the shadows. Rhett stopped and grinned.

"The board meeting I plan to arrange tonight."

______________________


	9. Splendid

**Author's Note**: This chapter was very fun to write. The chapter following this one is so surprising, I'm slightly afraid to post it. Anyway, please review and let me know if I should keep on going!

"Have you decided to join us, Ms.O'Hara?" A very smug looking Rhett Butler asked, standing in the center of a well-furbished board room. Scarlett stood, sopping wet, with six grande Starbucks coffees in her hands. Her glare was lethal. Damn him. She had picked out this beautiful Prada business suit, knowing it was sexy and low-cut, only to have it ruined by this snake. He was the one that asked her to get these stupid beverages in the most intense rainstorm she had ever experienced. She pushed the wasted coffees onto the table. An entire list of profanities ran through her mind as she took a seat next to Ashley, grabbing the pen waiting for her. The other secretaries snickered and began to scribble on their papers, handing it to the others. Scarlett was very sure the note's had nothing to do with business.

Her hands busily shuffled her thick hair into a bun, growling. She had straightened her hair for two hours this morning. Rhett grinned in a way only she could understand. One that let her know he knew exactly what she was thinking, and he was content that he was slowly destroying her day. His baritone voice resumed whatever the hell it was talking about, and Scarlett didn't even bother to try and look interested. On the blank sheet of paper, she began to write out every thought her mind had processed about Rhett Butler. It went something like this:

_Rhett Butler:_

_Is a surprisingly __hot__ bastard who refuses to leave me alone. I will hate his guts until I die. _

A wicked grin lit her face, as her fury-stricken hand kept racing over the page. Some of the cold drops of rain clinging to her skin did not feel so cold. This was much better than taking notes for a droning presentation.

_He is vile and evil. I hope his business, along with his bitch of a girlfriend, plummet to the deepest pits of hell._

Suddenly, a very dark hand plucked the paper from her fingers. Scarlett only knew one person of that complexion. Her face blanched.

"Writing notes?" He said, loud enough for the entire room to hear. They laughed softly, thinking her completely dumb. It was humorous for them to watch her blunders. After the chuckles subsided, all eighteen heads in the room bent, focusing on writing their summaries. Rhett continued to look down at his horrified colleague.

"Should I read this aloud to the class?" He questioned, in a voice only low enough for her to comprehend. Both eyes widened in saucers of shock.

"Don't." She warned, seething with humiliation. The tear ducts in her eyes were already beginning to activate, making her green eyes glisten. Rhett only chuckled deep within his chest and strolled back to his rightful place at the front of the room, tucking the folded piece of paper into a pocket.

Scarlett hung her head and did her best to conceal the brimming tears. It just wasn't fair. Burning stabs of embarrassment shocked her nervous system. This was the worst day of her life. She was the girl that always _joined_ in on the fits of laughter as another person made an ass of themselves. Not the subject of it. Scarlett only allowed herself one single drop to roll itself down her magnolia white skin-- only one. Than, a stinging pride seized her senses and told her to get over it. Cry about this tomorrow, when no one is around. Not in front of everyone, especially not in front of Rhett Butler. She could not let him win this one. Quickly, she pulled her eyes around the room. Everyone was preoccupied with their writing, it was likely none of them saw her wallowing in self-pity. Even Butler was writing something on a fresh scrap of paper.

Scarlett inhaled sharply, relief washing over her. Good.

Her hands resumed their writing, improving stupid little sentences to make it look as if she was busy. Paying attention really is a good thing- too bad she never did it. Before long, Rhett Butler stood, addressing another singular subject. His drawl hung in the silent air as he paced around the full perimeter of the room, handing a sheet of paper with a list of novel ideas on the front. The secretaries did not need one, since they were only there to help take down the notes; the dirty work if you will. Yet, a halved sheet of paper landed in front of her folded hands. The text, however, was not from a computer. It was hand written. Scarlett sought Rhett's eyes for an explanation, but he was already gone. Her eyes darted around the room to assure that nobody was watching. When this was reassured, her fingers unfolded the paper.

_Scarlett O'Hara:_

_Might be the worst secretary in this companies' history. She does not think well of her boss..._

You got that right.

_...yet he still wants to see her in his office following the closure of this meeting. Be there._

Shit. She was in trouble, and she knew it. Rhett was going to fire her for the note. He had obviously read it, his was in the same structure as hers. Her heart immediately began to race. It stuttered and failed, and jumped to life once again. Shit! As much as Scarlett liked to tell herself she did not need this job, she did. Without it she would be back home, feeding off of her parents' charity. Her father had refused to lend her money immediately following college, explaining that 'an O'Hara could stand on their own', but she knew with a little more pouting and a few tears, he would have relented.

The remaining twenty minutes of the board meeting were an agony. Her hands were constantly twisting in knots of pain. Some kid named Mark nervously bantered on and on about an idea of his, thoroughly wasting the final moments of her employment. Sweat began to slip down from her hairline, her stomach churning into intricate twists. Each word became more and more painful to listen to. When Rhett finally dismissed the room, Scarlett waited to be the last to shuffle out. She was thinking of ways to plead for her job. Would money work? No, Rhett had enough of that. Her car? Her soul? A kiss? Oh! That was a good one. Rhett would have to go for that one. How could resist her? Scarlett had seen the way he stared through every garment she ever wore. She understood that it would waste less of her time to face him naked. He had wanted to see her again. Did that not count for something?

Scarlett dug into her damp purse, relinquishing a tube of pink lip gloss. She smeared it over her plump lips, puckering and relaxing them for practice. Her heels were muffled by a thin layer of carpet as she meandered through the halls and up an elevator to find his office. Scarlett became lost in the swaying halls and lavish, glass-encased offices the building held. Finally, with the held of two secretaries and a guy at the coffee machine, she found her way.

When her eyes saw his office, her jaw dropped. Of course the bastard had the best office in the entire world. It was surrounded all the way around by thin glass. Leather furniture was pushed against each wall, and some very modern looking plants dotted certain areas of the floor. His desk was made of a rich mahogany, while the chairs around it were matching leather. It was just so... him. From outside the room, she could see him at his desk reading over the note. His smile slackened some of the fear within her. Soon he realized she stood immobile merely ten feet away. His hand waved her inside.

Feeling like an idiot, Scarlett rushed through the doors, taking one of the two very intimidating chairs at the front of his desk.

"Hi," She mumbled rather pathetically, staring holes into the letter he was re-reading.

"This is your letter, correct?" He asked, ignoring the greeting. An eyebrow was raised, as he slid the sheet across the desk top to her. Briefly, her eyes flickered down to face what she already knew. Yep, it was hers.

"Yes, but, but-" She met his black eyes, floundering for words. "I didn't mean any of it! I was just so mad about the coffee and-" Her voice was cut off by his chuckling.

"Please, spare me. It's a very honest letter, Scarlett." His grin deepened as he reminisced on her elegant words. "So, you want me to plummet to the deepest pits of hell?" Even Scarlett joined in on his laughter, realizing how ludicrous that sounded.

"Yes, you deserve it," She knew it was a ballsy move, saying this to her boss, but Rhett was more like an opponent. An opponent in a game she could not win. His face darkened for the briefest second. Than, the same devilish smile was flashed to her. His pupils seemed to be following some movement outside.

"Don't think you're getting off scott-free, Scarlett." Scarlett wondered why he was saying this at such a moment. She had been prepared to coquette her way into his lap and onto his lips. Thank God none of that was needed now.

"What's my punishment?" She asked seductively, batting both mascara deprived lashes. The rain had taken away any increment of eye make-up. Rhett looked at her oddly, laughing so quietly it was nearly inaudible. His head was nodded towards the door, as Morton walked in.

"Morton! Come here and meet Scarlett!" He cheerily waved the man in. Scarlett wished she had a gun, or noose, or anything to kill herself. Morton was the most vile man on earth. His tie was always loose, a snotty tissue at his nose, pants disgustingly tight, hair thinning at the age of thirty-four. Rhett really was earning his ticket into hell. "Scarlett, you don't mind taking Morton to his appointment, do you? His car is having minor repairs."

"No, not at all. Where shall I take him?" She spoke through gritted teeth, forcing down the urge to vomit, reminding herself to be polite.

"Just the hospital," Morton broke in, acting as if he were proud of visiting the place. "I'm having some problems, _down there_." His eyes flashed down to the bulge in his hip hugging pants. Scarlett nearly gagged. That was supremely sickening. Rhett's shoulders quaked with suppressed laughter.

"Okay, well, let's go." She said, begging for the escape of her car. Ew, she did not even want to imagine the conversation Morton would try to strike up there.

"Enjoy," said Rhett, walking back to his desk to sprawl his long legs. Scarlett prodded Morton out the door, glaring at Rhett through the glass. Sarcastically, she blew him a kiss which he caught in a large hand. Splendid.


	10. Caviar

**Author's Note:** This chapter was simple to write, difficult to post. I need some feedback now more than ever, so please review! I didn't have time to edit, so pardon the spelling or grammatical errors for now. :D I sincerely hope you enjoy this, but if you don't I totally understand. This chapter either ruins my story, or makes it a bit better. Which one, I'm not quite sure. That's why I need your help! Review!

"Ashley, why do we have to go to these things?" Scarlett questioned, slipping an earing into its rightful hole. Another party was awaiting her, the final party she would attend in New York City. It seemed every night she had been in this wonderful city, her nights that had once been destined for site-seeing, turned into shoving herself into a dress and being driven off to an extravagant venue. It may seem like a thrilling thought, but with so many disagreeable people in the same room, the parties dragged on into inexhaustible minutes.

"It's the last night we have in New York, try to enjoy it," His voice floated in from the next room, dodging the question Scarlett had asked. She heaved a deep sigh, and turned back to the mirror. Her dress was very stylish. It was one of red silk adorned with tiny white flowers. The length was not quite an evening gown, more of a cocktail dress, yet below the waist were still folds of fabric. A large white bow was tied about the waist, setting off her porcelain skin to perfection. Around her neck was a white ribbon, and her stilettos were snow colored, glistening each time the light glinted off of a thread. Instead of leaving her hair at its own leisure around her shoulders, it was straightened and pinned up in a high ponytail, the sheening hair reaching down to the base of her neck. She looked like a model. Scarlett giggled softly. _I always think I look like a model. _

_If your appearance is so on point, than why are you so nervous to be at this party? _Common sense sneered in her mind, always the buzz-kill in her life. Though annoying, it always was something to contemplate.

"Scarlett! Are you ready?" Her roommate asked, walking into the restroom where Scarlett was busy preening. His drowsy eyes automatically snapped to attention. Scarlett was always demanding his attention. She looked beautiful, as always, tempting his mouth to water.

"Yes, yes, let's just go." She pulled a comb through her already tidy hair, grabbed her clutch, and slipped an arm through Ashley's. His oggling eyes never seized to amuse her. She laughed, the sound like silver bells ringing in unison.

Her laughter broke through Ashley's male fantasies. He smiled with good nature. "What?"

"Nothing, darling." She teased, squeezing his forearm gently. Ashley looked somewhat attractive tonight, clad in a casual gray suit. It made Scarlett blush to think how she would have panted after him in this outfit only a short month prior. He looked perplexed for a moment, almost as if he were about to toss her some witty remark. Instead, Ashley pulled at his collar with a free hand and proceeded to walk them forward, to the final party of their stay in New York.

---------- _One Hour Later_ ----------

Scarlett gingerly walked up the flight of stairs, gulping down breath. She was putting on the most brave facade in her inventory, but on the inside her stomach had wound itself into a huge knot. Her turmoil was with facing Rhett Butler. How awkward this was going to be! Of course he would be at the party. He had to be. She was unsure if she could stand his mocking looks or the hungry appraisals of her body for the entire night. As the past had revealed, Rhett had no difficulty in tricking her into humiliation. What kind of game would he play tonight? The uncertainty was gnawing at her confidence.

More than just an awkward situation was plaguing her.

It was the magnetic attraction she felt towards him. Rhett was so different, not just in his rugged looks, but the air around him. He was surprising her with every word. Most men bored her to tears, talking only about themselves. Rhett seemed to be thinking of her for a change. One moment he could be so coarse, the next humorous. It did not hurt that the way his eyes took her in made zings travel up Scarlett's spine. She hated the man. Hated him with the burning passion of a thousand suns, yet there was more to her attitude towards Butler. Scarlett was utterly, and undeniably curious about him. She had never encountered a human being on his level. One she wanted to strangle, dance with, laugh with, stab, and the like. The cool air of the North was the only thing keeping her sane. She blindly climbed the mountain of steps, blinking rapidly. Ashley was basically dragging her forward.

"Smile," He hissed into her ear, as they made their entrance into the crowded room. Scarlett was too sick to her stomach to plaster a grin on her face. Her eyes took in the room without interest. This room was so... different than where the last party had been. It was smaller, more intimate. No dance floor, only long rows of dinner tables. The atmosphere was cheery and smelled heavily of alcohol. This was definitely a party! Everyone was laughing and smiling, looking totally opposite their normally stern visages. The beautiful women(who were only there as arm candy for the more wealthy men) wore scandalously short attire, with painted faces and cigarettes. They were actually letting loose. Even the men held cigars and small glasses of brandy.

Scarlett grinned giddily, eager for a drink and some fun. For once, fun! A squeal of joy built in the back of her throat at the thought. With thoughts if a good martini, her stomach began to unravel. She couldn't even see Rhett. Maybe he wasn't there... yes!

"Scarlett, Ashley!" A throaty voice cut through the collective hum of voices. It was one of the representatives for the company; one she knew rather well. Lesley Lombard. She was a plain woman, _slightly _pretty. Her body was long and thin, face void of emotion. She had an intelligent aura clinging to her every move. The only thing distinctive about her, was her raspy voice. It was hardly one a gentle woman would posses. Maybe a drunk, fat man...

"Ms. Lombard, how nice to see you again! I adore your suit!" Scarlett exclaimed each of the words, acting as excited as she did not feel. She settled into the background as Ashley engaged her in a very literary conversation. Her face looked interested and aloof even though she was dying of boredom. It was a trained mask she used whenever out with Ashley on business.

If the conversation with Lesley was boring, than the following conversations with just about everyone in the room could have put her to sleep. The_ zzzzz's _above her head were forming already. During most of these mind numbing back and forth's, Scarlett would keep her eyes peeled for Rhett Butler. She would hunt for his tall body among the shoulders of men. Each time she searched it was never successful. Her mind was overjoyed and annoyed at the same time, and when she went back to talking to whoever, it showed plainly on her face.

After a thirty minute chunk of customary small-talk, a woman made the announcement for dinner. Thank God! Scarlett had been forced to converse with a short man who shamelessly hit on her. He had incredibly quick hands, and when Scarlett wasn't looking he never failed to brush his fingers along her ass. You could say the chat was no better than a few cheesy pick-up lines.

Scarlett fled to an empty seat, away from the pervert, and away from Ashley. With Ashley came boring people, and during dinner she preferred to avoid them. Precious food could be her company. Both seats at her right and left were empty, and she knew everyone thought her as a loner or a bitch with no friends. It was an odd position to be in. People were casting her as the outcast. Scarlett, feeling awkward and alone, ordered a martini on the rocks, waiting impatiently for the tall glass of clear liquid to arrive. When it did, she slurped the whole thing down, delighted at the buzz it sent through her veins. It was numbing the pain of becoming an outsider. She shot her eyes around to look at Ashley, but he was busy chatting it up with a pretty little girl with silky brunette hair. He wasn't even looking for her. Another martini was ordered.

After the second beverage was downed, Scarlett sat twirling the remaining olive around the glass. She felt oddly abandoned by Ashley and the rest of the world. Her looks had always attracted some sort of attention to her in the real world. But in the literary world looks did not matter. The women hated her for being beautiful-the bitches, and the men were either too shy, or stuck in fantasies that did not exist, but all of them did not have the guts to approach her. For the millionth time that night, Scarlett heaved a sigh. The entire party was lively with laughter, but none of it included Scarlett. God, they were in their own little cliques.

"All alone?" The whisper tickled against her ear, a frame slipping into the seat at her side. Rhett Butler. Never in her life did Scarlett think she would be so glad to see him. Any stimulation would have pleased her.

"Yes, and you?" Scarlett replied, not wanting to let on how pathetically upset she had been. Rhett would laugh and think her petulant. She remained cordial, crossing one leg and smoothing out the folds in her dress.

"Not any more," His eyes flickered, an innuendo seemingly buried underneath his words. Scarlett could not find it. She tipped back her drink, guzzling the alcohol. Rhett called a waiter and ordered a brandy for himself. With him around, the table did not stay deserted for long. Women and men alike flocked to the chairs, forcing cheery conversation even when Rhett thwarted their efforts to be polite. After a few desperate attempts to please him, they began to talk amongst themselves, stealing nervous glances at the man who held their jobs. Scarlett was secretly glad when they were fended off. That meant she could talk to Rhett at her will, without interruption. Her mouth was twisted into a bemused grin as a female, who was considerably attractive, began to vie for Rhett's attention, using all of the charm she had. Luckily a plate of steaming soup was placed in front of them all, as dinner was served. Scarlett plucked the soup spoon from her napkin and greedily began sipping at the sustenance.

"Mr. Butler, how have you been tonight? Did you recently arrive?" The skeletal blond questioned, batting both fake lashes.

"Wonderfully madam, and yourself?" He responded, turning on the charm for this one. His voice to her was like velvet when it had been laced with annoyance to everyone else. Scarlett shot him a glare, halting her spoon midway to her mouth.

"Great, now that you're here." She said, in front of the whole table. Scarlett choked on the soup she was dragging down her throat. Her hand went to her mouth, desperately trying to cover for herself. This woman was ridiculously tacky! You couldn't just say things like that to a man! Did she not know the charm rules? She was probably a gold-digger anyway, out on the hunt for Rhett's money. Despite her cover-up, everyone turned to look at Scarlett, an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry," She mumbled, wiping a napkin to her lips. A trail of pink lip gloss was left on the white fabric. Rhett looked at her briefly, an extremely obvious smirk on his mouth.

"You're too kind," He responded, taking a mouthful of his brandy and rolling his eyes. The woman did not notice. Luckily, before she made any other inexorable comments, a new dish was served. It was a plate of fish and...God, what was that? It was a very expensive looking plate. A tender wad of salmon colored meat sat in the middle of her china, while a few very small black circles sat in a bed of leaves. Caviar! Yes, that's what those egg looking things were called. The fish looked so delicious in its buttery glory, however the caviar looked a bit questionable. She could not recall ever eating it before. Where did it even come from? Scarlett knew the fish had been snatched from the sea, but was caviar from the sea as well? Was it raised on a farm? Before she could contemplate such things any longer, her stomach let out a ferocious growl. Fuck Caviar. Scarlett took one look at the fish and dug in, knife and fork tearing into the meat. It tasted like heaven. The butter oozed over her tongue, pleasing her taste buds. The slippery fish plummeted into her stomach before being eagerly digested by her stomach. That poor little fish. Scarlett finished the animal off quickly. She and her stomach soon became very content, so she settled into the leisurely after-meal process of watching the others finish their food. Her hands brought the ice cold glass of alcohol to her mouth, chugging a luxurious mouthful. Hm, it seemed no fish was on their plates either. Scarlett watched all of them. The woman herded the little circles of caviar onto a cracker, tucking the food into their mouths. No look of disgust came across their faces. She turned to the men. They scooped spoonfuls of the black circles onto a spoon and chewed on them delicately. Most of them even muttered how much they enjoyed the food. Scarlett gulped, looking down at her plate. A dozen untouched black dots sat in front of her. Would she look terribly rude not to eat them? She blinked nervously. The others seemed to enjoy them...With shaky fingers, she took a salty cracker, scooping some of the caviar to the center. Her lips parted slowly, the cracker pushed inside. Scarlett crunched down on the mass in her mouth, immediately changing an unnatural shade of green. Juice filled her mouth. Her teeth crunched into the squishy orbs, a fishy, chalky taste replacing the smoothness of butter. EW! Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew! What the hell are these? Scarlett nearly gagged, groping for a napkin and pitting the half-chewed glob into it. She took large gulps of her martini, panting all the while. There was a low chuckling beside her. With a mouthful of sloshing liquid, Scarlett turned to glare.

"You didn't like the eggs?" He mocked, leaning back in his chair. His black eyes tampered with her gluttony.

She swallowed, staring at him incredulously. "Eggs?" What kind of eggs? Had he been watching her eat? Her fork went down to the remainder of leaves on her plate, poking for something to wash the taste of vomit out of her mouth. Meanwhile, the woman(who was completely oblivious of the conversation Rhett and Scarlett were having) tried to strike up another flirtatious tryst, but Rhett wasn't playing. Scarlett slowed her hunting to listen, laughing softly at some of the things Rhett said to this girl. Soon, she quit. The blond looked near tears at her failed trials to get into Rhett's bed. It was hilarious. It was even soothing the horrifying taste lingering at the back of her throat.

"You don't like her?" Scarlett taunted, her attention on the man at her side now that her food had been carried away, and they were waiting for desert. Rhett smiled, pulling out a rich cigar.

"Did you like Morton?" He questioned. Scarlett frowned and turned to face his grinning face. She had meant to talk to him about that.

"You are such a bastard," She whispered, feeling comfortable enough to curse at him. "Rhett, he talking to me about his...er... pants for an hour! An _hour!" _Rhett chuckle with genuine humor, eying her up. The girl was fun, no doubt. This was why he constantly searched for her company. After she left him after parties, or business functions, he starved for more. He even found himself dreaming of the emerald gazed vixen after that fateful kiss was blown to him. Scarlett O'Hara intrigued him.

She was not afraid of him, like so many other woman were. They nearly coward at his mere glance. Scarlett _swore_ at him. Others constantly were trying to get under his covers, for example, blondie. It was growing tiresome. O'Hara was refreshing, and stunning to boot. Her radiant green eyes peering at him below stiff black lashes were arresting. They lacked a hint of hazel. He could see everything she was thinking through those two eyes. Her magnolia white skin was luminescent, begging to be touched. Rhett yearned to caress that skin; it was fragile and innocent, not roughened by the brutal hands of a lover. Her lips, fastened to a martini glass, were perfectly red. Curved and soft, so kissable. Damn the girl for being so tempting. Before losing himself in the depths of her beauty, Rhett took a long swig of brandy.

"You should feel terrible," She crossed her arms, glad to see Rhett swigging at alcohol. The hound was feeling remorse. Good! It served him right!

"But I don't,"

"You don't?" Her face drooped. He didn't? Rhett smiled in that enchanting, devilish way of his.

"No, Scarlett. Seeing you upset makes me happier than it ought to. You look so pretty when you're angry..."

"Rhett, you forget yourself," Scarlett replied peevishly, breathless at what he had just said.

"I know exactly where I am," Rhett took a long drag of his cigar, inwardly smirking at the fire blazing behind her eyes at the comment. Wherever he was, he did not want to be there. He wanted Scarlett. He shouldn't. He knew better than to become involved with an employee, and a girl like Scarlett would suck him dry. It would be wise for him to stay far away from her. Rhett had been with girls who shared her... mindset. Clever, witty, pretty, charming. The different girls always took with him. Maybe it was for the simple reason he had bedded too many women before to settle with the normal ones. The girls like Scarlett kept his mind stimulated, distracting him to madness. They changed him, they always did.

Scarlett sharply turned her face away from him, 1,000 volts of electricity pulsing through her fingers. This wasn't right. She didn't want to become wrapped up in Rhett Butler. He would treat her the same way Ashley had, like a piece of meat. She knew this in the way he smiled at her, the mischief behind his every word. Each time his eyes devoured her body(which became more and more often) her body melted, but her mind pushed him away. Scarlett reprimanded herself for feeling all of this. She was twenty two years old! Her mother had been married by nineteen! It was time for her to fall in love. No more cheap flings. She needed to feel real, wholesome love, for the first time. Not the spell other men, including Ashley, had cast upon her. Those relationships weren't love. Scarlett turned her gaze back on Rhett. He was puffing away on his cigar, looking without a care. He could never love her.

"Do you?" She cocked an eyebrow and focused her attention on the man walking up to the stage. Announcement time! Wonderful. Scarlett quickly snagged another martini, forgetting what number this was. Damn, she had had _way_ too many. Five or Six? She only weighed one-hundred and ten pounds. Scarlett's vision and mind were a bit hazy, okay, a lot hazy. She had not been this hammered in a long, long time.

The man, who looked quite elegant in his black tuxedo, began to rattle off a list of 'thank yous' to many people in the company. Scarlett could not care less. She was eying the desert trays being carried out of the kitchen. Decadent chocolate cakes, warm from the oven, swimming in dark sauce; light cheesecakes with bright red cherries on top. Cheesecake! Scarlett leaned forward and gripped Rhett's arm tightly. "I want one of those!" She whispered, stabbing a finger at the waiters with slices of cheesecake on their silver trays.

Rhett looked confused at first, startled at her soft, but firm touch. His eyes stared into hers. She was wasted. Beyond wasted. He looked at his own array of empty brandy glasses. Oh well, he was nearly on her level of inebriation.

"You want a waiter?"

"No, no, the cake." She giggled softly at his joke. Surely if she were sober she would not think him so funny. Rhett pinched her chin playfully and his hand dropped away from her before it was swatted away. One black eyebrow went up as he bent a cool long look on her.

Scarlett waved her hand, trying to call a waiter over for more cake and alcohol, but Rhett stopped her. He allowed the cake, but not the martini. As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, Scarlett began to hiss.

"Don't think you're my damned father, telling me when I can and cannot drink!" She was furious. He may be her boss, but she was not his slave. He had no say in her damned life!

"Yes, smooth your feathers, dear. You've had much too much to drink,"

"And you haven't?" She hiccoughed drunkenly.

"I hold my alcohol I bit more quietly,"

"Why you unbelievable-!" She fumed, voice rising along with her temper.

"I know what I am, save your breath." Scarlett frowned at him, becoming annoyed with his coolness. Angry, she stabbed her fork into the creamy cake, taking large mouthfuls. The man at the front finished off his speech just as she polished off her desert. It was wonderful. It also put her in a considerably more agreeable mood.

A round of applause was offered to the man who had just spoken, and the men and women began to gather their purses and coats. Many of them held pleasant chatter with one another as they slipped shawls and heavy woolen jackets about their shoulders.

"What's going on?!" Scarlett whispered to Rhett,

"It's over, Scarlett, be glad." He chuckled at her glare. "Excuse me," He disappeared into the sea of silks and chiffons, out to dismiss his party and play the role of host.

Scarlett nodded at his leave, slumping over in her chair. She was in no rush to leave. Her eyes searched for Ashley lazily, spotting him in a dark corner with his hands up a brunette's skirt, lips fastened to hers. So much for Melanie, right old chap? She thought bitterly. He had most likely forgotten all about her, or was too drunk to remember. Scarlett pried her clutch open, searching for a few bills for a cab.

"Allow me to take you home," Rhett offered as soon as he returned to her side and most of the party-goers had taken an exit.

"I'm not telling you where I'm staying," She answered defiantly. Rhett grinned.

"Are you forgetting who is paying the pretty penny for all of my employees to stay in the finest hotel in New York?" He replied with a smug look. "I'm staying there myself."

Scarlett blew out the air in her cheeks and nodded. All escapes were blocked now. Besides, it wouldn't hurt to take a free ride home. He offered an arm, which Scarlett unsteadily took.

Rhett had a deep black car parked in a lot not too far away from the restaurant. He did everything a gentleman should; open and close the door, make a sarcastic bow, flash a row of even white teeth.

They began to drive along the road back to the hotel. Scarlett offered no conversation, save a few drunken babbles. Rhett laughed at her blunders, keeping a steady eye on the heavy New York City traffic. He hardly swerved, even in a drunken state.

It took nearly an entire hour, but they finally arrived at the Historic, French named hotel. It was monumental in size, with long white pillars, large windows, green ivy climbing up the walls, and crisp white paint over each of the walls. On the inside of the hotel was the decor of Kings. Everything was of the highest cost, and coated in some expensive sheen. It was exquisite, and something Scarlett had never experienced before. For a brief moment, she could look at the lavish hotel and imagine it was mid-summer in Georgia and the afternoon skies were blue and she lay in the thick clover of Tara's lawn, looking up at the billowing cloud castles, the fragrance of white blossoms in her nose and the pleasant humming of bees in her ears. When she snapped back from the scene, she was standing in the middle of New York, the smell of rotten garbage in her nose, and the sound of honking taxis in her ears.

"Which one's your room?" Rhett questioned one they were in the elevator, holding her arms to keep her steady. She looked ready to topple over.

"458." She mumbled, leaning into his shoulder. It was so hard to stand, and why was it so warm? Her hair was slipping from its ponytail, framing her pale facade. Rhett looked at her with something near tenderness in his eyes. He pushed a loose strand behind her ear, the touch of his fingers sending a rush down her spine. Scarlett remained completely still, unknowing of how to react in this situation. Had Rhett really just touched her in such an affectionate way? It was hard to believe. Her blank green eyes stared up at his, at the closest distance to him since they had met. Their lips were separated by a mere inch of air. Scarlett dragged in a long inhale of breath and fluttered her lashes. Rhett's head began to move, only the slightest inch, before the door of the elevator popped open with a loud noise. Here they were, on level four.

"This is my floor," She said, the electric air between her and Rhett electrifying her. His lips looked seriously prepared to kiss her. Along with the thrill and adrenaline, came a bolt of revulsion. Her hands shoved against his shoulder, head acutely turning away from him. If Rhett had only known how prepared she was to kissing him herself... oh God, how he would have laughed! No, she wasn't going to do this. Not with Rhett. He was a heartless bastard who deserved none of her time. Scarlett rushed from the elevator, taking in large gulps of air, and staggering down the hallway with wobbling legs, high-heels hindering her steps. He followed her, heavy tread echoing in the hallway. He walked with the light stride of a savage and his head was carried like a pagan prince. There was a carefully restrained ferocity in his dark face, a ruthlessness which would have made her writhe had she the wits to see it. Rhett's sudden laughter assaulted her ears. Assuming he was laughing at _he_r, Scarlett turned to sneer at him, fishing out a room key and pushing into the sanctuary that was hers' and Ashley's. Luckily, Ashley wasn't there.

Rhett leaned in the doorway, blocking her efforts to close the door in his face.

"Move!" Scarlett hissed, thinking she needed a cold bath. It was severely hot in this hotel...

"No, you're drunk." He accused, knowing he was on the same level. Scarlett wasn't listening. She had her heels kicked off, and had slunk into the depths of the messy room, full of luggage and rumpled clothes. Did she have a fever or something? Was it the alcohol? She pressed her palms to a window, enjoying the cool condensation on her burning skin. Her hands wrestled the window open, grinning at the cool rush of air blasting her face. It felt so nice to be cool once again. Scarlett looked at the pool below her. The small specks of people, the kidney shaped pool with its smooth waters, undisturbed by the wind. The night was completely still.

"I'm going swimming." Scarlett stated with conviction. That's what she needed. The cool aqua rushing over her feverish skin. God, that would be great.

"It's midnight," Somehow, Rhett had found his way into the room, through the swamp of clothing.

"I don't care, I'm not tired." By now she was on her knees, sifting through her suitcase for a swimsuit. She had not planned to swim at all, but Scarlett always kept a spare bikini with her, no matter where she went. Even in Antarctica, Scarlett O'Hara could find a use for a bikini.

"All right." Rhett replied after a pause, seeming somewhat distracted. Scarlett slipped into the restroom, slithering from her dress. She looked at her naked body in the mirror, totally satisfied with the image. Thank God she had spent those two weeks on the treadmill before coming to New York.The bikini she had was bright green, covering the minimal amount of skin possible. Scarlett took in a deep breath, staring at her radiant reflection. She was really beyond perfect sometimes.

When she slipped from the room with a towel in hand, Scarlett was a tad disappointed Rhett had left her. He must be staying on the side of caution. Oh well, a swim alone was fine with her.

Her bare feet upon the dry cement of the pool area was the only sound in the air. Everything was still. Surely, nobody was swimming at midnight. The water was silky, nearly purple in color. It was beckoning her to jump inside, take a relaxing swim to romp in the waters. The pool had a great argument against her mind telling her not to swim. Scarlett giggled and tossed her towel haphazardly onto a chair, sprinting into a run for the pool. Nobody needing a conscience at twelve o'clock at night. Her legs devoured the ground, tucked themselves into a ball, and crashed into the still liquid, breaking its perfection. The first and most immediate thing Scarlett felt was the cold. New York was a naturally frigid environment in the fall, and the pool did not have its heat on. Damn, it was really freezing. It was sobering and very, very frightening. Her lungs clamped into a fist, allowing no air inside. The temperature of her body plunged, replacing her feverish energy with bone tired weariness. She began to thrash and struggle for the surface, panting for air. The world was crushing in on her, like she was a simple sheet of paper. Her legs churned the serene water to bubbles. All of her efforts seemed to be in vain. Nothing was working! Scarlett, in one final, desperate, effort, forced her eyes open. A large, cement mass was the only thing in sight, aside from more water. The pool wall was only a few feet away! Her hands reached forward, pulling her head away from the chilling waters' surface. Thank God! She heaved in massive amounts of air, appreciating having her life spared. That had been incredibly frightening. Her body shuttered and convulsed, gaining back some form of heat. Scarlett waded through the violet waters, shakily pulling herself out of the pool. She jogged through the freezing air, eyes dead set on her towel. Once reached, its warm fibers encompassed her body, soaking the icy liquid from her skin and restoring some sense of normality to her nervous system. Scarlett plopped down into a vacant chair, drying her legs with the towel. It was peaceful and eerie in the night. A siren, along with the sound of a creaking door, grabbed her attention. The siren was rushing to a fire, but the door was only yards away from her. Scarlett looked up from her towel, seeing who could possibly be swimming at this hour as well as herself. Maybe it was a lifeguard coming to reprimand her... midnight was not exactly open swim.

Nope, none of the above.

Rhett Butler. He was dressed in nothing but standard male swimming trunks in a dull shade of white. The rest of his body was exposed. His flawless, tan skin; muscular, toned, body; extreme height; hair that slightly hung over his black eyes. Sexy, much? Scarlett was speechless.

"You couldn't wait?" He asked in a cocky, suave, arrogant-ass tone, one that Scarlett would have frowned upon, had she not been drooling.

"For you, no." It was the best she could come up with.

"Come on," He said, eying the water without apprehension. Rhett didn't come down here to sit around and argue.

"I'm done." Scarlett said cautiously. She was not about to face that pool again, no way. Rhett only chuckled and took her wrist, leading her past the edges of the water, to the diving board.

"Let me go!" She cried indignantly, walking behind him. "I don't need to be fricking dragged."

Rhett grinned, stepping onto one of the blue boards, helping her step onto it alongside him. The plank swayed under their weight, but held them suspended over the water. It showed no evidence of holding Scarlett moments before.

"Go ahead, _Miss. Independent_." Rhett smiled, stepping to the side for her to take the first plunge. Her heart was flipping in its rib-clad cavity. There was no way she could jump in there and drown.

"No," She spat, turning to leave.

"Yes," He smirked, glad to see her fear. Strong characters in fear were always amusing. Scarlett glared at his smirk, her loosened hair falling free from its ties. It billowed out around her shoulders in long black cascades. She saw Rhett swallow, his eyes trailing to places a boss should never look. What would a clever girl do in this situation? Scarlett put on her most demure expression, pouting her lips.

"I'm afraid, Rhett." She cooed, taking a side-step towards him. Her hands grasped the firm skin of his forearm, heart stuttering at all of the muscles. Scarlett peered over the board at the glass-like water staring back at her. It was rather menacing. "Why don't _you _go first?" Rhett's face changed from male fascination to blankness. Scarlett smirked deviantly and pressed both hands against his shoulders, shoving him backwards, plummeting into the water. She didn't watch as his body cracked through the liquid. Unlike herself, he surfaced in a short amount of time, treading water like a professional swimmer. Scarlett placed her hand on both slender hips, grinning victoriously.

"Get in the water." Rhett growled, slowly moving through the water, edging towards the diving board.

"No," Scarlett stared down at him, one slick brow raised.

In one swift movement he flashed a toothy grin, reached out, took her ankle, and yanked her clean down with him into the pool of glimmering water. A shrill scream escaped Scarlett in the split second before she was completely submerged in the liquid. Scarlett began the tiresome routine of thrashing and flailing, her own terror holding her arms and legs leaden. The bubbling water was so deep and cold, and she was going down, so far down. Her feet shoved against the floor of the pool, desperately happy to see a ground underneath her. With the momentum, her head broke the surface, refreshing air sinking back into her. Scarlett took the gratifying air in, sending hateful messages through to Rhett. She hoped he could just read her mind right now. His black eyes danced as though amused by the whole affair. The dangers of drowning in the night which had driven Scarlett into panic had infected him like an intoxicant. She swayed towards him, her face white, her green eyes burning. Though she had only been in the dangers of being swallowed up by the chill waters for a few seconds, it felt as though it had been an eternity.

"I loathe you," She snarled, hair sopping with water.

"We're in five feet of water. I assumed you could swim, though if not I could have saved you." He smiled in a way that made her long to shove him under the water to drown.

"I don't want_ you_ to save me! I want you out of my life," Her words may have been convincing, though her eyes were not. Whatever the reason might be, she found his company most exciting. Scarlett enjoyed tormenting him with plump lips and batted eyelashes. A thought came into her mind. "I want to go and see Ashley," With pseudo enthusiasm, she thought of her once drowsy eyes hero. Thinking of him always brought a softness to her face. Scarlett had seen the way Rhett looked at her, and she also knew he was convinced she was infatuated with Ashley. If she played her cards right she could drive him mad.

"Fine, go." He said in a voice that was thick of unshared feeling. The entire evening he had put a curb on his hands, fighting to keep them off of her slim body. He could not allow her to put jealousy into him. Rhett never thought of Ashley when with Scarlett. Her heart belonged to him, a man that was not himself. Rhett didn't know what he was thinking, coming down here with O'Hara.

Scarlett was delighted to see his demeanor change. "Yes, he promised me something special." It was her filthy, drunken mind that concocted the lie. Her mind thought of something 'special' Ashley would plan. A romantic night with Ashley seemed so repulsive to her now. His long body naked upon a bed, his timid complacence... disgusting. She did not know that her face had changed, that image had brought a softness to her face which Rhett misinterpreted as longing for Ashley. He looked at the slanting green eyes, wide and misty, and the tender curve of her lips and for a moment his breath stopped. Then his mouth went violently down at one corner and he swore with passionate impatience.

"You fool," His voice was rough and swift, showing the first sign of emotion Scarlett had ever seen from him. Before she could withdraw her mind from its far off pictures, his arms were a round her, as sure and hard as a tree. She felt a rush of helplessness, the sinking yielding, the surging tide of warmth that left her limp. And the quiet face of Ashley Wilkes was blurred and drown out to nothing. He bent back her head across his arm and kissed her, softly at first, and then with the swift gradation of intensity that made her cling to him as the only solid thing in a dizzy, swaying world. His insistent mouth was parting her shaking lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, evoking from her sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. And before a swimming giddiness spun her round and round, she knew she was kissing him back. Her lips mashed into his, not minding to be gentle. Together they stood in the water, the only sound being the swishing water. Rhett began to move, very slowly, keeping their lips intermingled. His hands found their way to the edge of the pool, hoisting their intertwined out of the liquid together. Neither of them missed a beat. Before she knew it, Rhett had her tightly pressed to his chest, carrying her down to the elevator. He really was not wasting time. He did not ask her if she was 'sure' about anything. It didn't matter if they were sure about this. They needed each other for the burning, brash moment.

Rhett's hasty fingers punched in the floor numbers before tangling themselves into Scarlett's raven hair. Scarlett was pressed against the mahogany wall, panting with want. His tongue slid into her mouth, questing for her own. Scarlett easily granted him. His fingers found their way to her slippery thighs, crawling up the white skin, into the bottom layer of her bikini. From there they had no trouble slipping inside of her. Scarlett's breath caught. He really was wasting no time. Her rapid kissing speed increased nervously, afraid of how far he really was going to take her. She could feel his pattern of breathing falter momentarily as the door opened. They moved down the hall, shuffling their feet, pausing only to press the other against the wall for a kiss.

Scarlett was surprised when Rhett did not allow her to go back to her room. He lead her into his. If they were not in a steamy ordeal, she would have stopped to marvel at its splendor. However, the only thing she would be seeing was the bedroom.

Rhett had her on top of his silky bed sheets in a matter of moments. Scarlett had lost all of her apprehension somewhere between the hallway and bed. She pulled Rhett to her and he answered with a soft sound that escaped his lips. Then he shifted to the side and traced the lines of her hips, pulling the bottoms down with him. Scarlett closed her eyes for a millisecond as his own pants slipped away. His hard body moved atop hers, and she feels she shall burst for sheer need of him.

"Rhett!" She gasped as he entered her, a wave of emotion crashing in on her mind, driving her wild. Amid such a reckless moment, the bastard actually smirked, or at least Scarlett thought he did. Her eyes snapped closed, hands gripping the sheets for support. It was all so unreal, like a drug trip. For the few minutes it lasted, Scarlett came near shouting twice. And when it was over, Scarlett regretted nothing; at least at first.

She sank back into the soft pillows, covered in perspiration, and turned to look at Rhett. It was then Scarlett realized she had made an irreparable mistake.

**END PART ONE CHAPTER TEN.**

_Okay, it's done. There's another part to chapter ten that helps complete this little cliff-hanger. I had NO time to re-read and edit this chapter so there may be tons of spelling errors, but those will be fixed in a matter of days. As soon as I get the time, I will revise. _

_Thank you for reading this chapter, no matter what you thought of it. Trust me, it's not the climax of the story. Ohhhhh, no, that has not come yet, don't worry. :D_


	11. Filth

_This story is not dead quite yet, lol. I'm extremely sorry for such a gap in my updates. I flocked to Tudors fiction for a while. :/ I hope to be back to complete this story. _

_Thanks so much for reading, and please review!_

Scarlett felt dirty.

It was three o'clock in the morning, and she sat with sheets bunched around her hips in Rhett Butler's bed. How had she arrived here? All Scarlett could recall of the previous night was the thundering blood in her veins and her lack of senses.

She sorely removed herself from the bed and gathered her skimpy bikini. Her fingers picked the garment up like it was infested with a disease. Scarlett began to piece together some clues: A bikini on the floor, a severe hang over, and waking up in her boss' bed, naked. Not good. Sighing, she threw the bathing suit hastily over her body, along with shoving her feet into a pair of discarded flip flops.

It was lucky that she had set her alarm two days earlier, knowing that without one she would miss her flight back to Atlanta. Her head was pounding like a drum. Every ray of light blinded her to the point of pain. _Good God, I must have been wasted._

Her cellphone beeped once again, alerting her that she had half an hour to get to the airport. She resorted to think about this entire, ugly mess later. Scarlett took one last wistful glance at Rhett. She assumed the worst had happened between them. He looked peaceful, with a lock of hair dangling over his eyes. One of his long arms dangled over the edge of the bed, hanging limply in the air. The worst part about this entire situation for Scarlett was that she reduced herself to a common office whore. Surely Rhett had no respect for her now. Her eyes locked onto his sleeping body, unable to look away. She had blown it. Scarlett had been so excited to lure Rhett with her charms and break him like she broken every other male. She wanted one, just one victory over him, and that was the only card she had. And damn it, he even won that.

The hot tears were building up behind her eyes. Scarlett absolutely hated this feeling. This 'what the hell did I do' thing. It happened so often. One of her last boyfriends had screamed at her after finding out about an overnight party she had with an ex. He told Scarlett that she couldn't keep her legs closed. Resurfacing memories bubbled into her mind. Memories she certainly did not want to remember. -She turned for the door, surprised to face a broad mirror. Her reflection was not the girl she knew. Stale sweat on her skin, hair askew, left over eyeliner trailing down her cheeks. What happened to the lively, pretty Plantation daughter her mother had raised her to be? What happened to that girl?

"I'll think about that later," She hissed to herself, knowing this was not the time or place for a self examination. Scarlett knew well enough who she was.

She flung the door open and turned one last look upon Rhett. With a watery smile, she blew him a kiss and left the room. Her cellphone emitted a loud sound and vibrated once again. Twenty-Five minutes until her flight. Quickly, Scarlett jogged down the hall. W_hich one's my room?_

As fate is a bitch, there were no pockets in her bikini for a room key. And as hang overs go, she had no recollection of which room she was checked into. The only thing she did have was her cell phone.

"Ashley?" Scarlett whispered when he answered his phone. Her eyes self-consciously skimmed the halls for any other on-lookers. Most guests were not awake at three in the morning, luckily.

"Scarlett? Where the hell are you?" Ashley was extremely angry. She could tell simply by his voice.

"At the hotel, you?" Her voice was meek, hoping that sounding gentle would fend off some of his rage.

"At the airport. Scarlett, get down here, now." She could hear him suck in a breath of frustration. "You always do this. Always! You run off with some guy, get wasted, get him laid, and don't know what to do with yourself the morning after," He paused. Scarlett clenched her fists, forcing the lump in her throat down with a swallow. How dare he! Had he not forgotten that pretty little brunette _he_ took home last night? When his voice resumed in the speaker of the phone, it was slightly more cautious. "Listen, just get down here as quickly as possible, meet me at the entrance, get through security, and board the plane. That's all I need you to do. I have your luggage checked in already."

"Fine." Scarlett said, snapping her wireless closed. She glanced through the window facing out of the hall. _Farewell New York, I'll remember you with fond, fond memories._

__________________________________________________________________________-_

Fifteen long hours later, Scarlett sat safely in her apartment in her pajamas with Emily and Cathleen at her side. Both were spooning through a carton of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, while Scarlett nursed a glass full of straight vodka. She was regaling her friends with stories of Ashley's four hour long lecture on the plane, mimicking his voice with perfect clarity. Then came the shopping myths and tales of the fabulous New York City. And finally came the heartbreak.

"He was amazing." She said, taking down another mouthful of her drink. _And I lost him._

"What exactly happened between you and him? Which base did he get to?" Cathleen asked, her voice begging for scandal. Scarlett laughed at the fourth grade question.

"He got to first and ran all the way home," She said, the smile quickly disappearing from her lips. _I didn't even fight it._

"Do you love him?" Emily asked earnestly, dropping her spoon of Marshmallow Whipped.

"I hate him," Scarlett replied. Emily and Cathleen paused their feasting to look at one another.

"Then why-?"

"I don't effing know, okay?" Scarlett cried in a sudden burst of feeling. Tears collected and fell from her eyes too rapidly for her to stop them. "Maybe I'm easy, who knows? Maybe I was curious about him!" Choking on her own tears, Scarlett gasped for air. Emily placed a comforting hand upon her knee, hushing her.

"Calm down, hunny," She cooed. Slowly, the gasps became gurgles. Scarlett's distress slowed and the tears began to dry from her eyes. She scrubbed at the wetness on her cheeks with the back of her hands."Have you called him?"

"No! I could never face him again," Scarlett tried to imagine the scene where she and Rhett met face to face. The mocking words he would throw at her, the memories he would flaunt in her face. Oh God, it would be humiliating!

"Then forget about him!" The ever-so-practical Cathleen cut in, her blue eyes bright. "If you don't want to see him, avoid it."

"Cathleen, you know that's not right. He's her boss," Emily leaned back on the cushions of the couch, resuming her dig for morsels of marshmallows.

"A boss that is up North about a million miles!" She leaned towards Scarlett, grinning like a school girl. "Scarlett, forget about it. What you've done, you've done. Focus on something more important,"

Still teary-eyed, despite the advice, Scarlett shook her head. "But I just let him _have_ me, Cathleen. Mama always said-"

"Oh, forget all of your mother's preachin' and teachin'! You're too young and too beautiful to waste your mind like this!" Cathleen rose to her feet. "Em, we have to save Scarlett and get her out of this place." She said, racking her mind for places they could visit at nearly nine o'clock at night.

"Nail Salon?" Emily tried to interject helpfully.

"It's nine o'clock!"

"Then how about a crappy scary movie. The theater will be empty and we can scare her out of this mood she's gotten herself into."

"Good!" Cathleen turned mischievous eyes towards Scarlett. "Get your ass into some jeans. We're going to see a movie."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

_End Chapter Eleven._

_The next chapter will be all about the movie and a few unexpected visitors._

_This chapter might be a little bit choppy. I typed it up as quickly as I could so I could post. :D_

_  
Thank you so much for reading. And thank you for advance for reviewing (because I know you will!) :D_


	12. Hazel Eyes

_It feels good to update after all this time! I really hope you enjoy and still want me to continue updating the adventures of Scarlett._

_P.S Make sure you read the chapter Aron's Song, before reading this one! Otherwise, you will be lost. _

Scarlett glowered at Emily and Cathleen. They were in the front seat of Cathleen's Mercedes Benz, blaring pop music and singing obnoxiously. It was all an attempt to bring up Scarlett's morale after her terrible adventure in New York. Scarlett longed to tell them to shut up. She yearned for the sound of silence.

"We're here!" Emily trilled, pulling into a vacant parking spot. Without uttering a word, Scarlett hopped out of the car and stalked towards the movie theater. She wanted to be in the movie, where it was dark and nobody would attempt a conversation with her.

The high-heels of her boots made an empty clack against the pavement until Scarlett reached the ticket booth.

"One for _Bloodshed_," She asked in a dead tone. The man behind the counter slipped a ticket to her, and Scarlett pushed a five dollar bill towards him. She heard Emily and Cathleen hastily order their tickets, trying to catch up with their distressed friend.

Scarlett waited for the two girls. They asked if she wanted a beverage or snack- anything. She shook her head and strode into the dark theater eagerly, ignoring all of the people in the movie theater lobby.

On the large screen, a woman was screeching with tears running down her cheeks. A man with a purring chainsaw was looming over her. Scarlett winced and rushed forward, not in the mood to watch blood splatter.

Her electric green eyes surveyed the theater. It was surprisingly packed with people. There was only one cluster of three empty seats and it was all the way in the back, at the end of a row. To get to the seats the girls would have to crawl over a group of rowdy looking men that appeared to be their own age. Emily came to Scarlett's side and took in what she was seeing.

"Oh la la, they're cute, huh?"

Scarlett simply blinked and bit her lip. They were attractive. Attractive in a rock band, alternative sort of way. They all had rugged good looks, shaggy hair and ripped jeans. They were also very noisy. The fact that many people were glaring at them did not seem to upset them very much.

"You guys go first," Scarlett said, taking a step back. She observed as Emily and Cathleen slipped into the aisle. The boys immediately took notice and began to whistle. Some even took the liberty to grab at their legs and hands. Although Emily and Cathleen only giggled, these actions caused unrest in Scarlett. After the whole ordeal with Rhett, her opinion towards men had changed.

With a laborious sigh, Scarlett strode forward. _Just get it over with._ She walked with steady confidence into the aisle, but it wasn't long until hands were pawing at her body.

"Stop," She hissed, whipping around to glare at those who touched her. They recoiled, laughing at the feistiness in the girl. "Stop it!"

Scarlett struggled through their groping hands and cat calls, clearly becoming flustered. She almost wanted to cry. Tightness was developing in her throat and making her voice crack. This was all she ever was to a man. A good body and a temper, nothing but a challenge. After accepting this her whole life, it was growing so tiresome.

"Let me go!" She shrieked loudly, reaching her breaking point. They only laughed at her frustration. Finally, she reached the end of the line of men and stared into the face of one of them. He wasn't laughing with the rest of his crowd. He stared at her with wide hazel eyes that seemed to pierce her deeply. His face was beyond attractive, and his hair was chestnut and shaggy like the rest of his group.

Scarlett stared at him for a prolonged moment and allowed a single tear to slip down her cheek before rushing forward. The men were too preoccupied with a blond who had risen to use the bathroom to notice or care. But the hazel eyed boy caught her by the wrist before she could reach Emily and Cathleen, and pulled her down into his lap.

Normally, this would have revolted Scarlett. But he seemed as if he was being sincere and she was too broken to care. She struggled for a moment, trying to get away.

"Really, let-"She protested, but the man only hushed her.

"What's the matter, baby?" He cooed into her ear, brushing a strand of hair from her eye. This seemed like such an intimate gesture … it made Scarlett too shocked to speak.

Scarlett froze like a deer watching a hunter. This man was so familiar to her! The wide hazel eyes, long eyelashes, hair that hung over each eye carelessly… oh, why couldn't she place him!

The other men in his group were done watching the blonde woman's ass, and swiveled around to look at Scarlett sitting on one of their owns lap. Immediately, they began to whistle and howl like dogs, urging the guy holding Scarlett to kiss her.

"Pucker up!"

"Just do it!"

"Kiss her, Aron!"

Scarlett jumped off of his lap out of instinct. That name caused a visceral reaction in her; it had ever since her summer fling with a boy named Aron. Her throat was so dry it felt as if it was bleeding.

"What's your name?" She managed to spit out.

"Aron," He answered innocently, staring directly into her green gaze. His eyes were so intense and familiar, it made Scarlett weak.

It was him. She knew it was him. The Aron from her childhood, her first love. She couldn't mistake him.

"Oh my God, Aron," She panted, unable to breath. Her head was swimming, her vision blurring.

Aron stared at her, perplexed. He didn't know it was his Scarlett. They hadn't seen each other in ten years, she couldn't blame him. But she had no doubt in her murky mind this was him.

_Cliff-Hanger…. Yeah, I love them. This chapter is to be continued, but I just wanted to get an update in for those who were waiting for one. Stay tuned!_

_Thank you for reading and (I hope) reviewing!_


	13. Rage

_If there's anybody out there who still cares about this story, here you go. _

The men continued to howl; haranguing Aron to kiss the unfamiliar woman perched in his lap.

However, the two were too engaged in their own conversation to pay them any attention.

"Have we met?" Aron whispered, dashing his eyes to the floor. Scarlett could tell he was perplexed and uncomfortable. His large hands no longer touched her hips, but lay in his lap. She noticed the calluses on his fingers; likely from excessive guitar playing.

"My name is Scarlett," Her voice was barely audible. She was nervous that Aron would not remember her at all. His gaze returned to her face. There was no recollection brightening his features.

_I'm scaring him. _ A frown touched Scarlett's lips. She removed herself from his lap. Before she could take a step, Aron grabbed her wrist with reflexes like a cat and pulled her back onto him.

"Stay,"

His hand brushed her collarbone, traveling upwards onto her neck. Scarlett touched his fingers.

A few moments passed where the two explored each other. Aron's hands traveled down her ribs, over her hips, and between her legs. Scarlett guided her fingers over his masculine jaw line, through his unkempt hair, and over his lips.

He probably thought she was an easy feel up, but she didn't care. It was her Aron, not some foreign stranger.

The screen flashed red. The leading female character was being murdered and all of the patrons in the theater shrieked. Aron and Scarlett lost focus. His friends were cheering for the gore unwrapping on screen. Her girls were burying their faces in their hands, unable to witness the horror.

Without a word, Scarlett pushed her small frame out of Aron's lap. She trotted down the row, seating herself next to Emily and Cathleen.

A huge breath escaped her. What was she doing? Men had proven to her over and over again that they were all scoundrels at heart. Who cares if Aron was her old beau? He was a man after all.

"Where have you been?" Cathleen peeked through her fingers at Scarlett.

Scarlett ignored her. She looked back towards Aron. He was shaking his head and running a hand through his chestnut locks.

She sunk into her theater seat, mind swimming. What had just transpired between them was a simple act of flirtation. Harmless. Yet, did it mean more than that? The two of them joining together at such an abhorred time in her life seemed to be the perfect coincidence. She had just had meaningless sex with her boss. Ashley was a cheap, sleazy man who now meant nothing to her. What did she have? Girlfriends who she did not like, a job she loathed, and a huge jacket of self-hatred wrapped around her. Could meeting Aron be an opportunity or a horrible idea? She had no idea, but the challenge intrigued her.

Her sage gaze swiveled back to her childhood love. She nervously began gnawing at her fingernails, deep in thought.

The theater erupted with screams. Someone else had been brutally killed. Another hour passed of graphic bloodshed and then the credits rolled across the screen. A few people clapped. Most simply got out of their seats and flooded toward the exit.

"Come on, Scarlett, let's go out to dinner. I'm _starving_," Emily rubbed her flat stomach for emphasis.

With a forced grin, Scarlett rose out of her seat. The trio traveled down the row, carefully avoiding the popcorn scattered on the floor. They exited the theater, shivering immediately in the cold night air.

Cathleen was talking about a sale at a designer store the girls enjoyed. Scarlett was making an effort to listen to her as they walked towards the car.

A chorus of whistles weaved through the air, into Scarlett's ear. She grimaced. Leaning against a large, battered van was the guys from the movie. They had cigarettes dangling from their lips. Long plumes of gray smoke surrounded them. A few of them were taking enthusiastic gulps out of a flask.

"Did you ladies like the movie?" A man with stylish black hair spoke. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his shoe before walking towards the girls. His friends followed. Aron trailed behind them, avoiding eye contact with his peers.

Emily and Cathleen looked pleased and immediately engaged them in conversation. Both loved male attention, especially from attractive, edgy males such as these.

A blond haired one eyed Scarlett's chest and smirked. He was clearly drunk. His eyes were swimming and his movements were relaxed and clumsy.

Scarlett scowled and walked towards the refuge of the car. She thought she was alone until she heard a voice from behind her.

"Hey," Two pieces of cinnamon hair hung over his eyes. They stood under a streetlight, near Cathleen's car. The voices of Emily, Cathleen, and the other boys seemed far away but were still audible.

In the light, Scarlett could tell he was high. Most likely, the entire group had taken hits of marijuana before the movie.

"Hi," It was a statement. There was no tone in her voice. No flirtation or suggestive lilt. She had decided it was best to remain neutral with Aron, despite their past.

"We've met before,"

"What?" Scarlett said, bored. She just wanted to go home and remain uninvolved.

"I recognize you. I don't know where from, but you seem… familiar," His words were slow and slurred.

"Yeah, maybe," She turned to open the car door and get in. It was a waste of her time talking to someone as high as he was.

"Where are you going?" He asked in an innocent, disappointed voice. Scarlett turned towards him once again.

"Home. Go back to your friends, and tell mine to come to the car,"

"Scarlett? Is that your name?"

She nodded. Aron's chestnut gaze locked onto her green one. His pupils wavered back and forth like he was looking for something. Scarlett could not tear her eyes from him. Cold air invaded her body, chilling her very bones. Yet, she felt a sudden warmth gush down her arteries.

He advanced towards her until their chests were an inch apart. She backed up, feeling a familiar pounding in her rib cavity. Their close proximity made her uncomfortable.

Aron slid his arms around her waist, pressing their hips together. Scarlett gasped, but did not resist. She fluttered her eyes up to him, shocked. Her lips parted as she asked him what he thought he was doing, but his mouth covered hers before she could get the words out.

Scarlett pushed against him, but his hold of her only strengthened. She struggled against his iron grip, but soon surrendered. His tongue caressed her lips, wishing them to open. Scarlett acquiesced, allowing him access. While his hold of her was strong, his kisses were gentle and slow. His tongue explored the insides of her mouth, stroking, brushing, and embracing. She responded in a similar manner.

They stood fused together for many moments; kissing and nothing more.

"Scarlett O'Hara! Oooh la la!" Emily squealed from across the parking lot, wrapped in the arms of one of the men and taking a drag from a cigarette. The other men howled and chuckled before returning their attention back onto the pretty fawns standing before them.

"_Scarlett O'Hara_?" Aron hissed, ripping his lips from hers. His eyes that had looked at her, once brimming with curiosity and desire hardened instantly. He pushed her hips off of his, glaring at her with a steel gaze.

Scarlett nodded. His anger was very apparent. She became numb. The fire left her blood and was replaced by dread.

"Scarlett O'Hara? Is this a joke?" He was reeling. He dragged his arm across his lips, erasing the taste of her from them. "Did you know it was me? Do you know who I am?" His questions were insisting and furious.

"Yes,"

"And you kissed me anyway? You sat in my lap and … and you came out here and we…" He glowered at her.

Scarlett did not know how to respond. His thoughts seemed crystal clear now. She watched as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

"You were the one who kissed _me_," She said, folding her arms. Unafraid of his bubbling fury, she raised an eyebrow at him.

His displeasure grew. A disgusted look dimmed his features. "You're exactly the same," His voice was low and venomous.

Scarlett backed away from him. She had expected him to be overjoyed at meeting her again after so many years apart.

"Are you still a self-centered princess? Do your Daddy and Ashley still protect you? Are you married to perfect fucking Ashley Wilkes yet, Your Highness?" Bitter. So bitter. His voice began to rise until it was a yell. "Do you know what you did? Huh, Scarlett? Do you know what you fucking did to me?" Passion and rage choked his voice.

The group and Emily and Cathleen shut up and looked over at Aron and Scarlett.

Aron ran his hands through his messy hair in exasperation. Crickets chirped.

Scarlett's heart turned to cement. She could not comprehend his tantrum and was horribly embarrassed at the scene he was making.

"Aron, we were just kids. You can't blame me for what my father and Ashley did. This is ridiculous,"

He sighed, more subdued. "No, Scarlett. I was crazy about you. I was. And I waited for you for almost ten years; waiting until you were free of your Father and his prejudice against me. I was stupid, yes. I took what you said seriously. When we were thirteen and would hide in those woods behind your house, you told me you were going to marry me. Yes, it's my fault. I blame myself for believing you, especially when we were only thirteen. But love gave me hope-"He stopped. Chuckled. "You don't understand what I'm talking about."

Scarlett turned to leave. Aron grabbed her wrist.

"I saw you kissing Ashley Wilkes at a bar at New Years a few years ago. I hope you two are very, very happy," He released her and turned to leave, pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear. Scarlett watched as he rejoined his pack of friends and an orange flame touched his cig. He didn't even turn to look back at her.

Within a matter of seconds, Emily and Cathleen came trotting to her side.

"What the hell was that about?" They both questioned curiously.

"Nothing, nothing. Take me home," She whispered quietly. Scarlett was too tired to deal with the situation. She resigned to think about it tomorrow.


End file.
